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A lighthouse
flashes like a pulsar
cutting through the darkness—
a laser in the vacuum of space,
a warning sucked into an event horizon
where dark rocks feed black skies:
an errant ship is trapped and buffeted.
The crew in desperation are
captured in a maritime painting,
the one smaller craft sent high—
the sea lightning flashing images
of the gravity well of rock
and a ship collapsing in on itself.
Those ashore buckle down for dinner
and in the turbulent candlelight they can
almost hear the true sound of the storm—
a splintered starship coming to rest
on the ocean floor: the roar of crushed
thunder lost under living coral.
by David Clink
from: The Surly Blondes of Earth, ©2002
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