Admirals in white salute
sailors diving into great white
mouths.  Ensigns retrieve
what's left of bodies on
shore but never stain
uniforms with one drop
of blood.  After the sun stops
hurting the days, spectators
are swept overboard by
a giant broom, the devil's
moustache with a handle.
The glossy deck reflects
the stars' lights, holograms
of fire that can take the crew
back into the past, when
pirates buried chests like
bones and murder was
a hand-to-hand sport, and
not another way to rid
the vessel of excess weight.
So, the dead ship continues
emptying town after town,
fills seas with skins and bones.