Measured on the scale
Of ships launched
I could only account for one
A doomed vessel
A small victory
In exchange for overall defeat
But not by explosion
The submarine was destined for an un doing
Of small explosions, internal chaos.
The quietness of a ship
As it approaches sea floor
But with nobody to hear it come to rest.
Does it really stop? Does it?
At the bottom of your ocean
It lies trapped, sealed, and ghastly.
One man's face
Is anothrmans coral
Home to all sorts of bright lurky things
We love him.
Jireh -
