The Albatross
(After Charles Baudelaire)
Many a time, to amuse themselves, the sailors
would trap an albatross, make it a slave.
(These ruffians manned those old-time deep-sea whalers,
resenting, but indented to, the waves).
The moment that an albatross touched deck,
the proud, ungainly prince of lonely skies
had nowhere for his wings. This living wreck,
so recently so regal, was despised.
The deck hands found him funny. Some threw tack
(as missiles, not as food). One held his beak
and, bent astride the noble creature's back,
forced him to smoke a pipe. The bird, too weak
to struggle, took whatever insults came.
His wings, his greatest glory when up there,
now, down among the cretins, were his shame.
He looked down at his burden in despair.
Copyright © Michael Coy | Year Posted 2017
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