in the lower intestines

of a ship

they fell in love

despite their chains

despite the storms

over the waves

they starved together they

mourned together they

told stories of lost childhood

and dreamt of running, of swimming

in sun-scorched seas, of rebirth

as albatrosses, while dumping friends

into ocean currents and watching the sharks swarm,

and when the whips came like thunder they grew

wings from cracked shoulder blades and found

the same winds as Magellan, flying west

into certain night, the dark their blanket

from cold, waiting for a glimmer at their backs

to alight a familiar coast, where sea birds

snatch fish and roost and share warmth when

storms roll in from the far east, storms

strong enough to snap palm trees, but storms

that would crash vainly against the nest

they built—a nest impossibly strong,

Of iron chains and charred earth