They returned to the sea

(the sea we all crossed, some in chains)

the Atlantic cold in wintertime

(but they’re too far south for icebergs)

off the coast under blue sky

and turbulent clouds

and the rays of the sun

93 million miles away,

which penetrate the calmly churning

ocean, scintillate in verdigris

slanting through the skin

of water bound here on this world by gravity

white and black, they sit under –

so far under, where its dark

and there are no stars to see.