Sunrise with Sea Monsters

by Nick Thran 

To be drawn to a certain quality of abstraction.

The shape-shifting stains

on a monster’s teeth,

the miasmic wash

of a monster’s breath. To consider

monsters who emerged

at the crest of the wave

or in the valley that followed the wave

or at the crest of the wave

after that. The clock

next to the log

has sunk. The log

has sunk. The sun on deck is less

a summer’s morn’

and more like a diagnosis.

Had we chased them far enough from shore?

Were good ones lost?

Is to love this smeared image

a morbid love?

Why cast two eyes

on a sunrise like this?

Because otherwise only
a monster does.