My Submarine: a narrative poem

12-inch ham Submarine sandwich with double mea...

not this kind of submarine

preface:  This was written intermittently over several days, during which I lost track of both its structure and content.  It is based mostly on a mix of several dreams I’ve had and my love of pykrete since I learned what it was.

My submarine

is increasingly wet

it’s not as dry

as I’d like it to get

against water pressure

it lost a bet

and it’s likely that we’ll all drown

I couldn’t have chosen

a more helpful crew

they all want to decrease

this flooding too

and they’re doing their best

to see it through

I just hope they don’t eat me first

Yes, cannibal submariners are the best

least, that’s what I’ve seen so far

I haven’t given them much rest

which might not have been the best idea

‘Cause I’ve found in life that sleep and food

can sometimes be exchanged

this water keeps us busy at all times

and my crewmates are starting to look deranged

But look!

the walls have begun to heal

i’m glad we used pykrete

and not of frozen veal

which the crew can now use

as their next meal

rather than myself

That seawater makes

a most glorious glue

not quite good as lakes

but nearly as true

We’ve surfaced again

and spirits are high

I just saw a wren

(it might make a good pie)

It is time to go home

to my family in Rome

they’ll hate this poem

as do I.


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