Marimo by MEGAN MOORE
Loose threads of silken algae, swirled up as the current breaks
against the shadowed rocks. Imagine your life in constant motion, to prevent
death by a festering rot that devours your essence the very moment
you pause for rest in between the rounded pebbles. One of a thousand
indistinguishable playthings for the lake- a life meant to be bounced around
for eternity. And yet- without the torment of icy flows, without the
never ending dark- the marimo moss ball would not be
anything more than a scrap of uncut verdant velvet;
a dried bit of paint left in Mother Nature's palette.
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- CREATIVE WORKS: POETRY University of Alaska Anchorage Department of English