Some look astonished
While some may give way
They sink to the sea bed
And leave the lungfish drift away

The light of the world is shrinking in this aquatic holocaust
Faces like fish, in the depths of the ocean
Eyes immersed into white, saturated flesh

Isn’t it quiet?
Isn’t it clear?

A shield from cloudy water
As salt grips at a canvas suit
This eroding process paralleled their story
With no word spoken of any sinking

A heavy, copper helmet
Clamped tight upon the corselet
The sound of the world subsides
Compression frets about his head
As the water-tight seal holds shut

The horse shoe weight presses firmly down on his breast bone
Heaving with remorse
Pulling on the air valve
He signals diver down

Goodbye was just a word
Even though she heard it flow through the ridges of his teeth
She hoped his clamped jaw would press three syllables to mend
And so she pretended he would whisper the three syllables with softness again

Now that it’s quiet
Isn’t it clear?

She’d filled his suit with tears

The old sea she’d been thanking
Was everything,
That he wasn’t


(Words, Illustration and Music by Tylea Copyright 2017/2019)