Transatlantic

I picture the cable
along the grey sea floor
beneath the marine snow's
steady fall.

Moray eels and
cephalopods ghost
through dead space
beyond the touch of sunlight.

Suddenly
I hear your voice,
bright between the
clicks and echoes,
stretched thin across
three thousand miles
of darkness.

The deep sea,
its chill pressure,
attends your guileless words.

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