COLUMBUS IS OVER
We are roiling the bounding sea, praying our words
to the Virgin Mary, some angel unbroken, without wings
herself, in the starry skies above. These waves are making
me sick, but I pound this deck for the love of God. Behind
me, some other ships, with love and fires of their own, keep
the splurge going. Sea to bounding sea, water splashes like a
death to come - another distant land, something to be found.
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