by Kendrick Smithyman
Scud sprinted blind, rigging shrill aloft
rumoured miles for kelson's haul or fell
gale rang wicked an eighth bell their knell
they feared. Fearing, they owned a deadly craft.
The Great Whale embattled some fetched wave's break,
dinned for day's monochrome their litany
where, less than Ocean, boasted Memory
least might serve. Thunderstruck, heard the Whale shriek?
Shiftless about islands, would breakers heave
them harvest, knocking victims under to batten
hatch on cargoed salt, on fur robbed at flood?
They ached, starvation's bread, who did not leave
much for their crewmen after. Railed at, southern
waters proved testy. The Whale slaked blood for blood.
Last updated January 14, 2019