The monster opens. I smell
metal, hairspray and makeup.
Everyone's growing their hair long
and it's tangled through the mouth.
I call for the cannon.
The gunner turns his head like a turret
and meets the gaze
of that huge eye. I think of
never-ending love,
the cobblestones of Baltimore,
the harbor slick with bailine,
setting the water ablaze as we made way.
I think of drop lines in our hands,
mending the sails,
sipping limeade on the deck,
and once,
a pod of whales.
When a threat arrives
we stand, we're cut down,
and we spring back
like shark's teeth.
Even the rats come out
shaking splinters against the bastard.
We'll slaughter those who
would slaughter us
and dump their booty in the hold.
I shout, "Don't you realize
we are the kings
of the fucking sea?"
The eye didn't even wince
as the cannon sounded
like a pinprick against the void.