Some go down to the sea in ships.
Jonah went in a whale.
Many have gone in trees.
I shall journey in my copper-sided,
Lying, pillowed, comforted,
on slippery, soft red silk,
as in a womb.
We say we are of the earth,
are bound to her,
grounded in her and on her,
since we cannot fly or swim,
are not of air or water.
We came from the Sea,
from its moisture,
and the energy of the Sun.
I shall return to the watery, salty beginning.
I, my corpus, my body
lying on the red silken lining
inside the copper fish’s body.
Sealed, the casket will slip into the Sea.
I shall lie there as long as the fish
stays closed and afloat,
riding the waves, the currents, the tides,
the ocean’s energy made manifest.
I will remain when my fishy tomb
sinks to a sandy, stony, muddy,
or fuming and spewing, volcanic bottom.
I shall stay as I pass into dryness
in the floating, copper shell.
Or, as the ocean’s specialists of decay
to do their underwater work
I am absorbed,
taken into solution,
become one with the Sea.