by Nick Gisburne
Sorcery smothers the heavens tonight.
Even the moon is a whispering shade.
Impotent oceans, refusing to fight,
Soften to silk as the hurricanes fade.
Silver and sapphire, a curious craft
Slices the surface, the skin of the sea.
Always, the alchemists, rowing their raft,
Knowing their nemesis, fear what they flee.
Feckless and foolish, they taunted the gods,
Playing with power too sacred to steal.
Calming the currents, incredible odds
Hint at a hope too remote to be real.
Midnight. A poisoned, impossible sun
Finds them, and flays them, for all they have done.
