MELITA
Sailing, out on the ocean’s depths, carried on a ship, by the wind, by the air, by the breeze, by the sea. It suddenly sounded like a fantasy, but one she could snag and reach, grasp and claw with her bare hands. Transporting goods didn’t sound all that grand – but then the notion of cannons caused her to gasp, eyes to widen, sharpen, with all the distinction of merciless, unrelenting capability. And a world to see: no longer so stuck, so mired, so inept, discovering more and more and more. Her heart raced, her fingers clutching Fangorn tighter. “Might see you there then!” With a nod, a wave, she was gone down the streets, temptation carving its distinction into her movements – people to talk to, to discuss with, before she rampaged into the inevitable. (FIN)
help tonight to split its seams
Give the bruises out like gifts
Give the bruises out like gifts
