“It was going on five in the morning”

by Scott Keeney



after André Breton

It was going on five in the morning
A galleon of fog dragged its chains across the ocean’s windowpanes
In the other direction in the distance
A glowworm
Lifted an island like a leaf
Flowering from a thousand fathoms a mother’s cry
Something was finished
Unforged in the foundry of the final
I think I’ve been falling for a long long time
Seaweed wound around my arms
Algae woven into my hair
And coral formed along my spine
Like the icicles around my sea-glass eyes
Another cry a shriek a squeal
Followed by a bell followed by a bell
The arcane bell
The antediluvian bell
Chained to the seabed the last mermaid
Her wrists in two-inch silver cuffs
Writhing relentless with everywhere eyes
Ringed by a thin spool of blood
And bits of scales drifting round like flower petals
A clatter of spears
Sends me away back up looking down
If I could shed my skin if I could carve myself out
If I could pierce this blue infinity’s black heart
Your blood and mine might mingle into one



Scott Keeney’s works have appeared most recently in Columbia Poetry Review, Court Green,Everyday Genius, Gobbet, On Barcelona, Stirring, and UCity Review.