No massive iceberg, no torpedo.
The hull’s neglected skin finally ruptured after forty years without maintenance. Forty years of forgotten sins flooded USS Matrimony.
She sank fast.
Husband and wife plunged into freezing water, together for the last time.
He drifted away. She never called his name.
Among the flotsam of broken things the rescuers found a pale blue envelope floating alone on the surface.
Inside a poem read, though no-one knew the owner or the intended recipient.
Days and nights are quickly mounting,
Seven months and I’m still counting.
Five more months becomes a year
Since your warm hands did pull me near.
Another month, another drought
No fight, no talk, no wanting out.
In five more months an empty year
Our ship will sink then disappear.
