Song of the Eel
1
The season of Hell is shifting
from Fire to Water.
2
Across a fathomless ravine, we all watch
as our new city builds itself slowly.
3
The skyscrapers that were once
there have begun to sink back into the ground;
now, a walled stone city is emerging
in their place.
4
The construction of this stone
city is driven by an immense orgy
that hums at the edge of the city.
5
Incest heats the orgy that is the engine
of our slow creeping into the past;
cousins embrace cousins; brothers
embrace brothers; sisters embrace
sisters; all bodies are
slick & pink.
6
I walk out to the edge
of the ravine to see the tops
of the sunken skyscrapers;
they have almost entirely absorbed
back into the dirt.
7
There is a man there, at the edge.
He sits cross legged on the deserted road
that drops off into nothing at the ravine.
8
The man does not move;
he is unaffected by the shifting
seasons.
9
I come back day by day, to the edge.
10
I see the skyscrapers sink & sink,
until they have never been
at all.
11
The man does not move.
12
The orgy rages.
13
The stone city emerges
fully from the past.
14
Then, the season of Hell shifts &
the ravine fills with water & becomes
our bridge to the stone shelter of our past.
15
We all celebrate the season
of Water & we prepare ourselves
to cross over to our new home.
16
The water between us & our stone city
churns & crests. Where it is not white,
it is a blue that is almost black.
The water is filled with eels.
17
The eels in the water thrash
in wild shapes at the surface.
The eels appear to us only in parts:
a fin; a tooth; a gleaming eye.
18
We begin to cross; we are still
able to fly, but it gets harder as we get farther
along. We get closer to the water as we go.
19
When my toes begin to skim
the water, a concrete median appears
in the middle of the passage.
20
The concrete median bisects the water
parallel to the two sides of the ravine,
splitting it into two equal halves.
21
I rest my body on the concrete median;
I watch the eels thrashing in the water;
I am now alone.
22
I can no longer fly.
23
As I swim, the eels twist & turn against
my body; their electricity prickles my skin.
24
I reach the other side of the ravine.
25
On the other side, there are two archways;
both lead into the same restaurant.
26
The restaurant has orange walls
& wet tile floors. Someone waits
behind the counter at the end
of the hallway.
27
I pull my body out of the water
& enter through one of the arches.
Abigail Swoboda is an interdisciplinary artist from Pennsylvania. Their collections include REVELATION REVELATION (Bullshit Lit, 2023) and VISCERA AMERICANA (Thirty West Publishing House, 2021). Visit their website abigailswoboda.com or find them on Instagram @beetrootstock.