In shallow waters stolen coral fish eggs burst against my tongue like softest salty pomegranate seeds - no bitter core - and I will eat them all though I forget the taste of food in briny dimness. deeper, then. I shall see phosphorescent dance, lure and mating-flash; be seen in great unempty space by giant, unreflecting, architeuthic eye; learn, but not delight in, the collective noun for jellyfish in their stinging fluther. Touch me now, you alien angular dangle of salt-white spidering elbows: cephalopod blessing of Magnapinna white plume moth of the depths to carry memories away, and I will be so far away: oh, so very far and deep. so, deeper. mesopelagic bathypelagic where the light fades out abysso- hado- and I am come at last to the true Hades, science-named and -certified: the darkest place where the light never comes from the sun and I know I will die down here and I will be mourned somewhere up there on the unimaginable surface, land unthinkable dry where they remember words like rain and revival in sun or under clouds while I am become nothing: my sea-change into something whalebone-bare and unressurectable while I am become brother to the tubeworm and the blind red shrimp monastic sea-cowled brother to the great congregation of consumption wriggling hagfish blackly cleaning my sunken self down at last to bone: the undancing white bone that will not rise again when the sea gives up what gave itself to her.
Jack Hollis Marr (also published as Jack H. Marr) is an English writer of speculative fiction and poetry. In the past five years he has lived both in the UK and in Montreal, Quebec. He frequently writes on issues of gender, sexuality and disability, juxtaposed with mythic and folkloric motifs.