flat.fish.flesh

A blue country sea
of war town bordered water,
internecine slaughter,
perches by pine tree.

Summer sea of old,
after work is done,
basking in the sun,
all its fish flesh sold.

Salt flat sea of gales
blows your voice away,
in the setting spray
fills your ancient sails.

Shitty sea today,
cited by these walls.
Hear the final calls.
They all drown by day.

Star black sea by night
etching out its mark,
shooting in the dark,
cool, deep waves of light.