Engines circling, helicopters ringing the area
small slow carts traverse the marinas.
Eyes peeled between each boat, looking
but hoping not to see,
a cadaver, a casualty, a man fallen in.
Currents below the still waters,
pulling and pushing, carrying the man
extinct of life.
Rotors turning, spinning the flat air.
What was he doing before he fell?
Reading, writing, drinking, going to
pee off the swim deck, and then no more.
What were his thoughts as
the water took him,
did he panic or just give in, did he
fight or was he unaware, his
judgement clouded by alcohol?
I wonder did he even know,
he was dancing with death?
Rest well the man the water possessed.
Baltimore June 2009
Jean Isherwood Farley
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