Towers Above the Mist

Inspired by a picture of LA towers rising out of the fog. Math is a pun on the numbers of economics but the capitalisation refers to the Math of Celtic Myth, brother of Don, a magician who could still sea and sky but could only thrive with his feet in the lap of a virgin. Must have been inconvenient but the virgin here is Gaia herself.


Towers Above the Mist

To the drum of Mammon
vertical galley crews
dip their small white oars
in lattes.

Water-cooler sirens sing
to the whip-crack of sales
their Dow-bows parting
Math’s Sargasso Seas.

The mail-boy drools
in the I.T. pools
where wage-slaves sway
in the scan-thralls of Xerox.

Peer pressure sores
false grapple smiles
tight-cut lass sheathes
tic-tic stilettos
taut hawser ties
in chain-gangways
where both the captains
and the capstans
shriek and fail.

Mist now shrouds the Main
as the towers drift on by
anchors dragging, scarring
Gaia’s blind and bleeding eye.


© mitch 2023
Views: 2094
critique and comments welcome.
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Like it, great metaphor Mitch.


Incredible, every line a winner. Very, very cleverly done.
Do you remember I once wrote a poem about sailing ships and I had put something about the rope lashed to the captain when I meant capstan?
Makes me laugh even now.

WO x


Wonderfully clever, the metaphor is amazing. Sue.


Very imaginative, Mitch, and skilfully crafted.

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