Inanimate Thing

At night, a huge creature floats to the surface of the tart ocean to dream into the moonlight, which barely penetrates the sulfur clouds. She sighs, her skin made of stainless steel is luminescent in the dark, her nuclear heart continues to work, but she is empty: the last restless souls have long gone from her body. She floats out of habit: inanimate things can’t dream. What did she dream before? blue sky verdant strip of land on the horizon… she doesn't recall 19.11.2019 All About The Environment. Poetry Contest Sponsored by: Richard Lamoureux