Waves

A thunderstorm passed over, gun turrets flash. gray hulls rumble and roll above tumultuous clouds. Evening commences to weep - an aftermath, a damp emotive capsizing that barely touches upturned faces yet it splashes fright onto brows. As seafaring battles go it was a skirmish, flotillas of cruisers awash from near misses. They sailed away leaving this whittling rain, a backwash of electric jism, the distant sound of sailors shouting for rum. Behind our eyes deaf fish mouth deaf bubbles. Ozone spumes against inner ears. The wake of the storm sponges, damps down, slowly drips into a salty bucket of silence.