On the sixth day after family found
you waterlogged
the rest of us wolves
dispersed their findings
             and you sank
into the sky again

The peeping-glass window
     bobs above whitecaps
to beckon a            plea.

Schools of constellations swim
like the fish you watched in sinking
light, twinkle under powdered
youth
                         gunmetal grey
         they migrate South into mist brave
enough to stop bullets from our sandy
                                                            goodbyes

Who's left glimpses
at its single canister
expired
                  faces bleached
by glow,
                 waist-deep
                 in undertow

When you fled the urn,
I heard Truth's chain yanked
by its brass bell. Rattled
behind and
               
                                 in front
of us, your wrists  and
boulders free from tethermarks

A tongue-tied choir scream
the land-locked blues
 
Florid at the cheeks 
we the shy acrobats
juggle fingers
in closed palms till 
the breeze sunk us 
like a dozen pruned
handprints.
Amends to bruised backsides