captain spins the wheel and pilfers a puff
of the cigarette in her brittle hands
takes a lick off the spine of the salty brine
coughs
the risks of smoking are serious
to her but what happens to the fag?
an IV drip to the Black Sea
caught between the cell blocks of her rib cage
her hair drips translucent
puddles of nothing cover her feet
it matters not, her lack of introspection
she doesn't have to move to change direction
a gift as yet unopened, this voyaging maiden
the currency of calamity is the precise
antithesis of the sand dollar
to her, but what of deference?
don't be daft! bow under her stern gaze
a revolving smoke envelops her nightmares
awareness flung overboard
beneath the liquid soil
but not before walking through plankton
to a frothed and dripping rave
