As she gasps for air on King Gradlon’s banks,
the red waters of her petulant petticoats part
to reveal the slick ultramarine fin that shall
propel her through this sea of bloody roses
by Providence’s judgment.
Our ocean which had once been her savior now
swallows her, dragging rotting rogues and spirit
spotted tongues down into her open arms
The bells still thunder – can you hear them?