On First Looking into China Miéville’s “The Scar”

I have travelled much in fictional realms.
Oceans of dream and nightmare I have sailed,
close at hand as Atlantis overwhelmed
or distant as the half-self-swallowed tail
of Ouroboros. Each gives its own pleasure:
a peaceful harbor or a pirate flag
island maroonings, tales of sunken treasure
until I rode the tide into Bas-Lag.

Then I felt like some walker on the shore
silent and calm beneath a cloudless sky
skipping stones, playing at commodore
when the tsunami lifts the water high—
green thunder from the deep, a monster more
dreadful than the Kraken’s rage-sparked eye.

The Scar

Available! High-Voltage Lines, Knocking from Inside