The Aleutian lies 
decaying 
and decrepeit 
at the bottom 
of the Bering Strait. 

The force of the waves 
was too much for its walls, 
but the captain called for more. 
"Pour on another eighty thousand pounds," he cried, 

"C'mon, bring it on. 
Bring on another eighty thousand pounds to our already 
full load 
so I can watch their suffocating bodies 

make one final gasp at freedom before we tear those 
motherfuckers apart." 
As the ship sank to the bottom, 

the attack took nine unexpected, nine human lives, and 
it's labeled 
a tragedy. I call it revenge. Sweep your water across the 
hull; I can't stomach the sight.