Burnt Verse: a Sailor's Tale

“I fear these furtive brumous depths,” the aged sailor growled, “‘Cause nestled ‘neath these noisome reefs creep creatures cursed and cowled. They flounder thus and, seeped in brine, patrol the waxen sea, And when it drains in years to come, will slue ‘cross land for me.” My eyes fixed fast on this cowed man, an enervated soul, And felt his dread leap to my chest as I commenced his role. So tempest-filled my world became as hunters strode the sea, Yet all my thoughts returned to shore, held by this phantom, he. The poisoned tales he wove like waves, eructed into air, Trailed terror down in floods of fright to moor me in its snare. And so I left these merchant minds to profit from the deep, And knowing that their die was cast, abandoned death for sleep.