by Kyle Hunter
I keep adjusting my glasses.
My blurry eyes feel older than me,
like I’ve been lending them out
and they’ve come back all used up.
There’s no way of telling how many bodies
will decompose enough to float up
and how many will stay on the bottom of the sea
or be carried by currents out to the Atlantic.
I shouldn’t be surprised, the loose
and languid skin around my eyes is not taut
anymore, it slouches against my sockets
waiting to hear it’s time to go.
As the bodies fill with gases
and distend sometimes layers
of skin will detach and float away
like a second ghost leaving the body.
I have known for many months
that I should set up an appointment
and talk to an expert.
There are solutions to this.
The governments involved refuse to talk
about the more than 655 migrants that died
in two months, the deadliest start ever
to any year in the Mediterranean.
But it’s easy to get distracted,
and sometimes it’s easier
not to see.
