(The Old Islander Recalls)


Meade Frierson III

"Don't dive for gold," I warned a sun-browned fool,
"You may find some briny secret where poseidons rule."
They heeded not and liquid bulges soon were gone.
Three tugs, I thought, paying out rope in the sun,
Meant invasion of the nether world was done.

The sun inched past the mast; I waited still --
Tanks are finite, not subject to Man's will,
And lungs, too, yet no signal could I feel,
As I watched the idly-spinning wheel.
From their lost waists the cords snaked 'round the creel.

There! the silent bell was tolled; the winch began
To wind them upward to the realm of Man;
It slowed -- the sea would not release its purchase on
The world above; below that placid ersatz-lawn
A root was stuck; I was to tug till dawn.

When at last the first corpse came in view,
It seemed my premonitions had come true.
For there, enshrined in kelp and webs, were two,
A bloated pair, turned all a gravestone's hue
But where the tridents had run them through.


© 1997 Edward P. Berglund
"Where They Rule" by Meade Frierson III: © 1971 by August Derleth. Reprinted by permission of the author from The Arkham Collector, Summer 1971 (# 10). Email to: Meade Frierson III.
Graphics © 1997 Old Arkham Graphics Design. All rights reserved. Email to: Corey T. Whitworth.

Created: October 21, 1997; Updated: August 9, 2004