Ocean life ignores the iron
desperately holding onto its skeleton, only knowing
another part of bed where prey can hide and predators seek.
Motes of debris sink to the port hole, or where it used to be
before rot came and the coral took root.
The ghosts don’t mind, the deep is quiet
and the pressure a comfort. Here they can rest
far better than their kin in the ground,
away from the irritating buzz of fear.