“I refuse to drown”

say all captains of all ships when the hull touches the stone, when the helm spirals out of control, and there are no lighthouses marking the way to safety, when they capsize and drown, drawn to the bottom by the sirens, meeting their ultimate fate;

“sink or swim” is no good for any sailor when they reach their final destination: the feasting place among the fish and the whales and the eels that nibble on their hands and their lifeless eyes (and pretty much all the flesh that they can reach). there is no last breath, no saving prayer, no god, no queen when their earthly treasures are spread around the ocean floor – shiny coins that reefs and algae have no use for – a floating grave on the water for sharks that will not mourn.


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