A fish in a sinkhole
Waiting for the fleet to show
Over flesh and fishbones
And the imaginary sand below

In marshes wet and windblown
Swimming but the fins are slow
Swallowing the brimstone
Needles in the throat and bones

The needle is a reptile
Turning narrow heads and smile
Look for bees and sandflies
Obeying but the will of hive

A fly so young and callow
Can never make a ship aglow
But big fish in a sinkhole
Waiting for the fleet to show