Against Hope

by krstaten

pexels-photo

In the midst of the ocean, we screamed
never quite loud enough, unheeded
by a hundred thousand passing ships
and then, without warning–
or otherwise with all the warning in the world–
cannon fire took out the boards we clung to
and we drowned. We, a sea of swimmers
against a fleet; we, a sea
of splinters. And now, our lungs
becoming wells, our tongues becoming accustomed
to the taste of salt, we inhale–
we inhale and hope for air,
and with what little left we have
we ask the cannonballs for rescue.

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