The White Ship (29) - Poem by David McLansky
(29) The White Ship
The White Ship is a ghostly city
Crewed by those who have no pity
Here the righteous Stupid rule
Who serve in haste while being cruel
The Gorgon bent above my bed
Her features locked like one who’s dead
She then let out a deafening scream
That echoed ‘cross both length and beam,
“You’ve made my life a misery
With your lies and cunning thievery!
You have made me old before my time!
You must be punished for your crimes!
“You’re not sick, you’re simply lazy!
You fool these fools, but I’m not crazy!
At any time you can rise and walk;
Answer me, you can talk! ”
Hr spitting teeth, her glaring eyes,
How can I answer paralyzed?
Her twisted face, her demon hate!
Why must this be my final fate?
Subject to her tempest breath
Captured, pinioned, fearing death,
Helpless, stuck upon my back,
I fear my Will is waning slack.
Comments about The White Ship (29) by David McLansky
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.