Villanelle Competition Entry: Five

The River Beneath the Sea

We tried the top hat, the junk shot and the top kill
but a mile down, away from the tiny electric fingers and lights
the river beneath the sea, the black river was flowing still.

Fifty barrels of mud a minute pumped into tendrils
that probed the breach had no effect, in spite
of the top hat, the junk shot and the top kill

and a barrage of rubbish aimed with lavish skill
a mountain of civilization’s detritus to smite
the river beneath the sea, the black river flowing still.

Things from one world – Sisyphus rolling golf balls uphill –
passed into another; the damned spot below and from the heights
the top hat, the junk shot and the top kill.

The little ships combed the glutinous tide with strigils,
we tore the very water apart in our rage to indict
that river beneath the sea, the black river flowing still.

The little ships choked on the returning rill,
what we could we carried off or set alight,
but no more top hats, junk shots or top kills

as a sump of lawyers gathered to dispatch the bill
(if they could find an ass to kick) or to cite
the river beneath the sea, the black river flowing still.

And when at last amongst the exhausted terns and spoonbills
we stood and stared at the sluggish, alien mass, we knew – despite
our trying the top hat, the junk shot and the top kill -
the river beneath the sea, the black river was flowing still.

Isi Unikowski