How these deaths were dealt,
by such soured sailored seas,
divvying up our disastrous takings,
And we would long for lighthouses,
Yet no bells bellowed for yours this sad Sunday.
Her and her mourning,mellowed melodies,
lace upon lips in shadows of sorrows,
eyes alighting fires of formaldehyde fevers,
Coffins of funeral pyres petrol-ed with desires,
Ramesses returning us to the den of our deceased.
This poem can be read on poetry.com – http://poetry.com/poems/292868