They called the captain back to his ship.
 reckless storm could hold a tirade against him — 
 hoisted upon the members, his brow stearns & furrows.

I shriek, “do not let him go,
 he is a bitter man
 the sea has taken all he has.”

But they cannot hear.
 every dove synchronous with the ocean.
 & at bay does the sand circle, ‘round and ‘round,
 doomed destinies marked

I can no longer tell the difference between the ink and the tattoo.

But they called the captain back to his ship.
 it was a broken promise else be fair.
 hearts made crimson only by the sunset
 bleaked whiskey, otherwise.

His lover was a quarrel, in quarantine,
 masquerade as something painted in pink — 
 I no longer can tell by map
 where you can drown

& where you can breathe.