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Mar 2020 · 112
Conch Shell
Arthur Adutt Mar 2020
Milky wavelets flow over contours,
Reminiscent of its marine origins,
Crests erupt from placid planes,
As if shoals of seaborne creatures,
Have been enveloped by a duvet,
And the dorsal fins of the sharks,
Still protrude from the quilt of silk,

Or as if mountains precipices,
Have been encased in ivory curtains,
That ripple like the ocean of its birth.

Beneath its coarse carapace,
Hides its amorphous cream belly,
So smooth and polished,
That even the faintest of light,
Creates a lustre of such radiance,
It appears to bear its own luminescence,
Like a refulgent relic,
A sacred sculpture,
Sprung from the fields of Elysium.

— The End —