Clade Song 12 left

Clade Song 12


Psychrolutes marcidus

Surfaced, an off-white blancmange 
mirroring ourselves. Look closer 
to see yourself in its jiggling flesh - 
a marine hall of mirrors lifted
from the Tasman Sea. Take two:

Under the surface, this fits
its definition: a fish borrowed 
from a screensaver, documentary. 
An aquatic Garfield nabbing 
whatever drifts along the seafloor. 

This won't be framed in perfect light
by an Old Master. No angels 
or cherubs will adorn its portrait. 
This comes from the black hole 
of the depths and will crush 

your definition of perfection. 
Worship it. Worship it until 
your body collapses into a jelly
and there is nothing left 
but to be thankful for this honesty. 

Clade Song 12 Right

Christian Ward is a London, UK-based writer who has recently appeared in Open Minds QuarterlyObsessed with PipeworkPrimeval MonsterDreichUppagus and the BlueHouse Journal.




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