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The Mary Rose,

Rating: 5.0

There was little time, even less warning,
when an anger of ocean smashed
her portside and in a blink
the mother-of-all broke her like a stick,
today she sits with her remainder of men.

Currents sea-wind her beech decks
and wave a sheaf of seaweed flags,
a click of crabs entertain in her lower reaches
stargazed by swords of fractured light

ghosted through the blue-green,
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