At land end's trembling lip,
passed eye's can-can't see, at the
sky-sea line where vessels dreamt
of falling from.
The king of the animals was bit by
a pair of star-studded teeth, to
dispel the myth of water.
Wild with wilder strokes, their
plunking slip slaps, nowhere-fasting.
Slogging away at ancient rains,
beating their surface round, showing
droplets what they were.
Body to body of water, weightless
upon where great floods got drunk.
Pulled in by the call to insignificance
through the dereliction of duties,
unscrambling the doubling deep's face.
The how of the humbling left to the
king of the animals, back floating...
with the lo-upturned eyes of a saint.