I could hardly watch,
eyes riveted to the screen,
infused in blue light
washed over by eight
hundred thousand pixels.
Across my breakfast bowl
eyes clutched at your hand
clutching air, as another wave
of deep blue dots flickered
into ice white.
We saw no body,
it was a rough sea,
just a wave
then another, as you, a hand
sank.
We learn
they found
the rest of you
not much later,
(still too late)
At the time of observation,
what did I know of your hand?
Brown, small, maybe male,
not much more. In the morning light,
it was too grainy on the shaky
handheld
to tell.
I had no perspective
from that angle
but here you are again, risen.
After being lifted, identified - sort of,
A small boy from...
The old footage is repeated, just a hand
fallen from a shoddy boat (the anchor,
she blamed the boat)
I shuddered, I shrugged, I changed
the channel, turned off
or looked away - hardly
remember. But with the turning
I felt something fall
from my shoulder
and sink a little
deeper down
