The Last Shall Be the Next First

And how are the buccaneers,
Flying their black YOLO flag,
Faring midships this morning?

It’s been a rough week, likely,
Radiation cannons aimed
Directly at them daily.

They’ve probably been scattered,
Many killed, many flailing
In the waves, but probably

Some still swimming, seeking land
On a deserted organ
To dig in and thrive again.

There’s always that survivor,
Dumb-lucky with destiny.