oh leviathan

dashed bereft under hanging skies
that mirror your sagging pall

I stand, Ishmael, to your bloody demise

amidst the niveous fulminating
and hovering nebs

where Neptune  saw fit to serve your hulkfor its absolute picking

by those which need and others that greed
with no affect to your fabled past

your jaw,mute in life,thunders now in death
of the avarice that was your scourge

proclaiming, even in your finality,

Ahab lives yet