heat death

we are a high school, honey-love crush,
terribly beautiful at our 
tipping point to the contact. 
staring into abyssal zones.
walking on water;
wading;
raising generations 
of fish through this 
finality. the poem steering 
directionlessness into its 
narrative. the death of 
oceans as a wicked strangling
no one wants to solve.
it is all simply too evil
and we are too pure to know
what terrible beauty comes down to us.
a life and death hypocrisy,
when we are flying 
in that first 
weightless step.
walking on water
until

bottom.
staring into abyssal zones

which are closer now.

Poem and photography by Hazel J. Hall.
Previously published by Dream Noir.