Only the Shoes Remain

This is true. And sad, and slightly creepy.


The flesh is gone, devoured by the sightless
creeping dwellers in deep water. Dark
and freezing oceanic deserts, lightless
wastes, breed creatures hungrier than sharks.
Even the bones are gone, dissolved by salt
at pressures surface-dwellers can't withstand
or comprehend. No rain from heaven's vault
falls on remains with such a heavy hand.

They danced in dazzling ballrooms, chandeliers
swinging overhead. Beneath their feet
the icy waters churned, as cold as tears.
No corpses, no skeletal smiles greet
the wreck's explorers. But pairs of shoes remain
like ghosts still waltzing the abyssal plain.

Available! High-Voltage Lines, Knocking from Inside