Cape Concern
Dank water slops towards the hull
Of the SS Again On Monitor.
No wind stirs flaccid sails.
Loyal Lieutenant Bish has tied himself to the wheel.
Fatigue overwhelms the hapless Bish
As cruel solar beats down on his head.
Locked in his cabin,
Admiral Luxon broods in silence.
El Dorado, the promised Land of Gold,
Is nowhere in sight.
The horizon is a merciless clean line.
Months have handed.
The ship sinks decrease within the water.
The currents drive them in circles.
The gulls snort at their pitiful state.
The crew have grown stressed.
All evening he can hear them whittling away
With their knives.
Narrowed eyes glare at his cabin door.
Bosun Peters, Deck Boy Seymour,
Even Cat’o’9 Tails Stanford –
Can he belief nobody?
The one sound is the squeaking
Of the bilge pump from the maintain.
“Bish!” Shouts the Admiral.
“Fetch me a bottle of rum!”
There isn’t a reply.
The Admiral staggers to his toes
And swings open the cabin door:
There, armed with sharpened sticks,
Are the snaggled toothed, pock marked
Mutineers of the Again On Monitor:
Bosun Peters, Deck Boy Seymour,
Cat’o’9 Tails Stanford,
And at their head,
Loyal Lieutenant Bish.
After a trip, The Odes of Billot will resume every so often however the Sunday Poem collection will proceed by fashionable demand.
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