GRAVEYARD

Beneath this gray restless surface,
        the earth has stopped singing,
            the light is dim.

Bloated bodies, baggage,
         fuselage, red and gray seats.
             Bluefish,
                 speckled crabs,
                      in this graveyard slowly sway
                           as olived eels eat their meals,
                and currents and tides pilfer
   treasured aluminum and steel.

A boyant gesture calls to the swimming rubber clad man,
                     but his air gauge commands him to ascend.
              Quickly he chooses a blond well-dressed woman,
    but first he must undo the woman's grip
from her son's hand.

- Bernard Ottermann