away from the camera

Written by: jan oskar hansen

Away From the Camera. 

In the Bay of Bengal, near Tripura, a tank ship ran 
aground, an old ship that had been economical for 
its owner, carrying crude for a hungry west and
crewed by low paid seamen. And she was sold to 
the people who would tear ships apart, like French 
avant-garde butchers with hearts of frozen rocks.
Squall in the bay, the ship broke anchor and, like 
a horse that seeks grassland, she sought high seas. 
Alas she had oil onboard must be caught before spill 
washed on sandy shore. Cowboy tugboats rode out 
lassoed the old lady back to the place of destruction. 
It is in the Bay of Bengal the infidel drowned Bin Laden, 
in moonlight his coffin is a silvery specter in the bay. 
It drifted to shores of New Jersey, on the voyage made 
a devilĀ“s pact with sandy storm; revenge for those who 
dare laugh in the face of Islam. For her crew this meant 
little, but pale memories of peace when dolphins played 
on cobalt sea, and grown men had hearts of poetry.