Sub-marine
Her emails have no fins
yet flit beneath wavelets,
opaque electronic eels
sleek and vibratory.
The journey’s long from
her to me, through a cable,
a hose elongated in the sea.
What foliage, seaweed or
plankton must it pass through,
what organic waste that’s purulent?
What manta ray or starfish, startled,
strays by, wondering what slithers
uncoiled in those frigid ocean streams?
Once dry land is reached reception
radiates under computer’s glass,
a fishbowl of communication.
Watery-eyed I gaze
at her final squirming message
in my email aquarium.
Author writes under the pen name Jan Cronos and lives in NYC drafting poems, flash, and shorts.