An albatross of want does dip
in the air over a corsair, the prow
unbeknownst to the water it cleaves
and that does dip and recalls
the ballisticness of recollection.
Everything at sea is two lines
inexorably drawing together. And
the albatross thinks how things
look better being thinner and dips
out of all cognizance and of this,
beneath waves, beneath sea, even.
