Clothes neatly folded

beside an empty wine bottle,

the first victim's found

floating face down

the next morning in the weeds,

dragonboats, moored fifty yards

off the boulder-strewn shore,

now forever out of reach.

 

Even if he'd made it,

where could he have gone

without a key to unlock

the boat from its buoy,

without a paddle, let alone

a partner to help steer?

 

The second set of clothes

provide a clue to the provocation --

perhaps. Even so, it's another day

before his buddy is discovered

tangled deeper in the weeds.

 

The scuba diver has

to unsheath his knife

to avoid entanglement himself.

 

Still, the knotty question:

suicide or death by misadventure?

 

 

->

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Richard Stevenson

Drowned

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