Trojan Gift Poem by Captain Cur

Apparitions play havoc with my soul
digging the heavy anchor from the silt,
hanging whale oil lanterns, flames aglow,
exposing massive timbers of my ship.
I watch one slave with purpose through the night
pismire sweat streams down his chinless face
cranking the capstan rusty from disuse
hammering tar pitched boards back into place.
White brilliant sails like angel wings alight,
a maze of ropes unknotted and unloosed;
this dream of pain with dead men for my crew
shadows bent by the dull light of the moon.
As consciousness and thought full gained on me
of pagan oaths disgracing all the gods
their Trojan gift returns me to the sea
these remorseful souls' captives in my charge.
No! I would not captain a ship as this
mental refusal drove me to my knees
the earth was rent and opened with a hiss
and in my hand was forced a burning key.
On it etched the face of these men I knew
that caught my heart and stole my every breath
their pride and sins exposed them to my view
there are no secrets in the realm of death.
I saw each one as then and now he was
they lined the gangplank licked by hungry swells;
I walked unsteady as one guilty does
paraded through the very eyes of hell.