cycles of armies of men exert their power

and weaknesses over the weakest of waves

to propel the huge ship forward against the wind

and storms faster and faster to reach the shore first

to finally celebrate the end of being weighed down by ringing

alarms dancing sexes scrutinising eyes and a crew that cannot

stomach any strong opinion or facial expression

 

but over time hearts exclaim their faded

colours and deformed shapes

and donate all their blood

into a body of unrest

knowing the ship will hurl

its best hurt men

at the restless

disturbing protest

‘till they either return to bed

or pretend that the ship never squealed

beneath its routine laughs and coughs and deaths