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The dawn opened
like a blood blister
on a scene more whistler
than hopper, an octopus suckling
the starboard side of a galleon
where crewmates slept
or crept from bed to bed, rode
the hump and hull of it,
suctioned round the seesaw
as the light changed complexion.
Speaking of love,
a midshipman asleep in the pitch
was roused with a bite on his neck…
there are no dreams with vampires on deck
only sidling agreements and moments
that lay open to other moments.

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