by Nick Gisburne
A swollen sun reveals the slick of grease
It belches from the wreckage of the ship
The struggles of the smothered sea birds cease
Too feeble to recover from its grip
A bloom of smoking poison swamps the sky
With all the loathsome darkness of a dream
And from the twisted ruin comes a sigh
A whisper of despair before the scream
The pilot is selective with his words
A string of curses nobody should learn
He wonders if the spirits of the birds
Will notice when the beach begins to burn
But no one sees the stricken ship ignite
A single stroke of violence and light
