Under These Dead Skies Poem by Patrick Frazier

Aboard a hellish vessel
Salvaged without salvation
A giant hook through the ribs

Black blood streams the deck
Diseased flesh unloaded in nets
A feast for the restaurant in the arsenal
Where patrons leak into the food
From their gaping wounds

The captain and crew
Are sparks that become ghosts
Clearing with the musket smoke

Angels along the shore
Pinned up like butterflies
And open graves in the sand
Her red haired head wearing a death mask
A child without a name
For fiends beneath the earth
They all taste the same

Burned, as my hands
Fending off the fiery ghouls
Burned, as my eyes
From the eastern jewels
They come in on the ebb and flow
Of a black tide
Under these dead skies
Dragging me back into corruption.