A Trifle

There is no comfort to be found here.

From the murky depths she stares at his crucified image-
Strung up, dangling from the sky-
The waves beating her don’t even touch his toes.

Seaweed rosaries wrapped round her ankles and her wrists-
Anchoring her in the tumult but,
Dragging her further and farther away from the surface.

Bubbles escape the murmuring mouth-
Every familiar word filling her lungs with doubt.
There is no comfort to be found here.