Ballast Sticks

like leaden logs laid low
kept on the keel
crept on the kreel
kneeling and reeling
storm swell stealing
souls well salted
cannon cries, crashing
fraying stays and sundered sheets
hoisted high from holds below
iron angry for oaken prow
spirits sink before the ships
walk the plankton warm repast
all is lost,
gone,
past

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