The Wreck


Hanging sheets from eaves to ease doubt

A swollen gash flooded leaking out

Stairs pulsing with motion from above

Below the glory, shackled, frail dove

 

Jilted dew lies on tattered brow

Broken mast besieged beleaguered bow

A ship as fine as emperor’s lace

Broken, hollow, beneath lover’s grace

 

The mighty mass turns in tide

Washed up breathing salted hide

Faceless bulging bloated gore

Streamed across the rotting shore

 

Sun bleaches plague and pustules form

Fluttering winged ravenous swarm

Baubles bob and duck and weave

Solemn black the widows grieve

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