They are laid out to die,
cold slabs of her,
that once sealed her in are
beside themselves with tomorrows sorrow;
cast up bits of her;
parcels of ice.
There’s something pathetic about
the fact they are solidly stuck
to the bank;
abandoned opaque remains,
with a hint of the human grave.
She, Dee, is relieved to be
free of this weight,
as she gurgles on towards the sea.