The body floats upon the dull water,
The water that moves the body gently,
Up and down over the rise and fall of
The swell, subtle, but noticeable still.
The swollen body is too beautiful,
Against the quiet motion of the waves,
Which weren’t really waves; more modest movements,
Of air upon water, trapped in a low
Dry canal; so sad with waiting so long.
Depending upon how I adjusted
My focus, it changed in its relation
To that stark, transient liquid beneath.
Oh, such beauty did the body contain.
Expelling a radiant glow from its Pale skin, of invitation and glee,
Expounding its own transcendent beauty.
I wish nothing more, now, as I did then,
To swim to that sad bobbing mass of limb,
And reach out my hand to the supple skin,
And clasp upon the inert substance of flesh.
It is a girl, a lovely girl, she is
Feminine in all her vitality,
And deathliness. I do not know this,
But for the way she lets herself be bounced,
Up and down, slowly, by the gentle tide,
Unresisting the ever-present flow:
Her complicity exudes her gender.
I love her as her hair whispers around
Her shoulders, a half-flown mast of dark brown,
Against the light colour of the water.
Peace, soft peace, would be upon her soft lips,
Were there much left of her face to study.
The sun burnt away her beauty long since,
But the bone structure that remains shows grace.
Her dress billows, an ethereal mass,
Wet and heavy despite its buoyancy.
She fascinates me as she slowly
Turns, pushing back against oblivion,
Refusing to be dragged down to the depths
Beneath her. The scent of her bloated limbs,
Decay and degradation, all fragrant,
Within, draws me to her eternally.
The body, I think, would smile at me now.
