Posted on November 22, 2011


A tender waterlily slips through the hands of the dying captain
The Captain cups his hands and drinks
The pearly beads, the teardrop seeds
And though his ship is taking leave,
He claps his hands in prayer
All through the night his lily sings
And to the touch the lily stings
The Captain in misery thrusts
The lively thing
And a bruised rose, the lily sleeps
The Captain by the bedside weeps
The withered thing
The bloodred thing
And as the waves toss in hellish fire
The captain bleeds,
In his hands she’s left a stinging seed.
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