Work Text:
To Domino
by Pirate Turner
Domino, your beauty is to me
Like those Nicaean barks of yore.
That gently, o'er a perfumed sea,
The weary, wayworn wanderer bore
To his own native shore.
In the heat of battle,
Your ebony hair, your hardened face,
Have brought me out of danger
To live another day.
Next to me in the dark,
How statue-like I see you stand,
A huge gun in your hand!
Ah, Psyche, from the regions which
Are Holy Land!
The End