by Lily Ellis

An iron monster sang to me once.

At a rocky beach with sandy cliffs
where I surveyed my estate. I looked
to all the world’s Kingdoms, and beyond
to choppy seas turning the whole world
						A mirrored grey

Down the path were stones and lives. 
Little lives. Mollusks holding on despite the pain
In the sand were tiny whitewashed tombs
much too small and simple to be Pharisees
						Unlike myself

We cried and laughed among the hollow
gravestones. Caverns built from mollusk bones.
On top of that, refined Earth’s bones lay
claiming nature as their own. The domain of
						The iron monster

From the ground, the cliffs looked small.
When climbing, they loomed. Seizing an
opportune ring, I tried to best them.
Instead I hung, eyes wide. In full view
						Seen, yet unseen

I had betrayed the mollusk dead so now
I clung to the rock, despite the hurt.
I could not let go. I could not speak.
On the rocks I cried, my fingers throbbing.
						But then it sang
					I heard
				The wonder
			I looked
		No answer
	But beautiful noise
It came from everywhere. Echoed through the
sandy tombs. It was a choir, screeching pure 
metallic notes in cacophony. The others closed 
their burning ears and turned their faces
						But not I

Ten thousand angelic banshees screamed
their chorus. One unending varying note
Rent the air with trembling melody.
I could have held that awful note forever
						Natural wonder

Emulating an angel host in hot, holy
conflagration. Contractual expansion. Running
smoothly over human art and degradation,
over clean tombs of bones of little lives
						Still holding on
					Singing
				Resounding
			Fading
		To nothing
	But unearthly still
The air lay dead. It fell from my grasping fingers.
It broke into a thousand discordant pieces.
Children yell, waves rumble, gulls croak and grate.
I stood silent, clinging to the song of the iron monster
						Gentle titan

Divine, ineffable lullaby.
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