the bones of those lost to water
disappear. the currents eat them, erase.
no hollow face gazes out
into the murk above a broken hull
or the hood of a rusting car.
not long, that is.
a thin shell is all that separates him
from a drift into the cold.
a scarred pike wedged into the rocks below
watches his pale twigs break the mirrored glass,
the fingers gaunt and bent.
the water whispers
as it laps about the seeping bottom
and the walls
against his back and legs,
his shoulders.
there are no stars.
they hide behind curtains
damp and still,
unseen. shadows wait
just underneath.
No comments:
Post a Comment