I saw the hostage cripple forward
Behind the flintlock in my hold
I held the chassid in the station
I did exactly as he told
I crushed his hands I made him old.
And he privateers are dead
By scaffolds raised by their employers
I dug a pit up in a boulder
And found that all my friends were older
I dug a chip up in my shoulder
Move
My grave
From the bank
Where they found the whale
The Boston's out
On the lawn
For sale
The portions
Dropped
In a single engine hail
The map
The kids found
Fell apart
In the mail
The loader's arm
Drifted left
From the dock
The lip
Of a trawler's bow
Protrudes from the bog
I'll
Take care of me
For the winter
To come
The whale
On the beach
Has been medically
Undone