Odysseus to Eurylochus
If I could, I would tell you 
how you made me hate        

the sea, because for days        
it was your grave,                  

the only casket that allows
light inside. 

In the end, it doesn’t 
matter: I've written it down—

nothing has changed:
the water that drowns 

is still more beautiful 
than the lungs it enters.
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