https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/11122
Second Grandson – 09/10/21
…and it was…and he was…just a man…what more was there to think or say as he looked more from instinct than sight and saw, to him, the final sign, the waterspout, a deadly snake from the water to the sky, swaying and moving and slithering towards him…the final fear, and yet…what is this peace come upon him… For when the wind and the wave took first the mast, just snapped like a matchstick caught between the fingers and a weathered, calloused thumb, and the rudder went next, though he could not be sure all so fast, all so everything so fast together and at once, like the ending times with his Mary, but then no relief, no blessing, but terror and fear like the sight of the gator almost upon you for the first time… And the waves so terrible and high with a mighty power such as from on high…and the spout fearsome and evil now turning right, but with an eye surely on the top, closing to focus a bead of poison upon him, sneering, for moving away was just a ploy, an illusion such as the cobra getting ready to strike, the stillness of the wicked head, the hypnotic stare to cover the body coiling towards him – “Oh Lord, the serpent” he cries out… And the sharks tasting his blood from the tear in his leg from the hook…the waves so high…and the waterspout, it bites and laughs and lifts him from the boat and the sharks pulled from the warm terribly troubled water and he flies up and tumbles and spins with shark eyes and fins and gaping mouths all about him and…
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