The Aleutian lies
decaying
and decrepeit
at the bottom
of the Bering Strait.

The force of the waves
was too much for its walls,
but the captain called for more.
"Pour on another eighty thousand pounds," he cried,

"C'mon, bring it on.
Bring on another eighty thousand pounds to our already full load
so I can watch their suffocating bodies

make one final gasp at freedom before we tear those
motherfuckers apart."
As the ship sank to the bottom,

the attack took nine unexpected, nine human lives, and it's labeled
a tragedy. I call it revenge. Sweep your water across the hull; I can't stomach the sight.