Her face barely above the water
The dead girl floated like a poisoned fish.
Her eyes, which had given up being
Human, were locked like a safe.

Her tentacled and deliberate hair
Gesticulated with silent slow-motion
Hopelessness, as though she wanted
To tell her tale, but the numbness of
Death prevented her.

Silence was the only noise she made.

The sun prickled the surface with its
Votive-light spangles; while the moon
Was dragging the sea after it on its
Penitential chain, like some giant whaler
Determined to deliver the goods.

She wore a blue dress, this Madonna-
Of-The-Water. Sea-weed gave her a halo.
Small crabs clung to her breasts like
Hungry children, as the sea had absolved

Her. Wherever
She had come from was lost; lost too
Was her particular beauty, for the
Sea was consuming her in its bloated
Greed. Yet, on what was left of her
Winsome face, pale as candle wax, rested
A look of helpless pain.

Hail full of grace, pure as a newborn
Baby’s breath: Pray for us that we shall be
Delivered from this life; this death.