Eli Slover

Haze

This is what I mean when I say haze. We don’t talk much anymore, clouded in inky fear, swimming through evanescence, diving down to the black-and-blue abyss.

The velvet sediment floor churns with our arrival, our broken pieces sinking into the lurking depths.

Decades will likely pass before all the wreckage is found.

The cargo alone will cost a fortune; this is to say nothing of the furniture, equipment, mountains of coal, surplus food, the pounds of mail, the people. It all finds its way to the bottom.

Eli Slover