White Columbus
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The Great White Shark slides
Beneath the Nina: sailors scream
In Portuguese as its sides
Rasp the keel like a cold dream,
Then it’s gone, and you never
Blinked. You prefer white.
You breathe…a hundred tribes
Shiver and smell death. Every night
Your leaky trio creaks toward Bahama
Bearing muskets, crucifixes, pox,
And mercantile opinions - the drama
Of Europe stretching. Fame knocks
And calls your time: you’re on soon.
History, your dresser, offers an array
Of futures, and the cold new moon
Lights up your Great White Way.