a cascade of bones
from the deck
of the Orizaba have led
me to take steps
below the water
of my life line down
into the drowned world
the one of memory
where a reminder
that the repeated
waves although
much the same for us
on down the line
when we built a little
step ladder of bones
to find our way
to reach the shores
of our faces after having
turned them away
one time too many
what else could we say
heart stopped from
the endless chord
of the cables in suspension
revived from
then succumbed to
the echoes of
this fountain's overture
to our fading song
