The Sea is spitting them out lukewarm,
Fish-eyed corpses flopped on the shore.
Some barely breathe.
The rescuers hustle to save the ones they can.
The jeep bursts along the shore in fits
To stop and check
For a pulse, or a breath, or a sign.
I hear them muttering under their breath,
“This one is too far gone.”
They move to the next one without looking back.
They call for me to come,
“Valkyrie,” they shout as they walk.
“Valkyrie,” they say.
“Come with your swan wings
And penny his eyes.
Come, Sweet Valkyrie.”