Loosened from Khaos’ grip
by her toothy bite
of the pomegranate’s pulpy skin,
he pondered his singular way
to the Latinate’s southern will.
To align his thoughts,
he danced his myth
in his ebony feathers
and pounded python skin
stretched over hollowed green gourd
until the wintry sun set
in a salted sea
and the leviathan spewed
a multitude of drops,
scattering like stars.
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