Challenge poem

I forgot to post this one from March’s Whup-Ass challenge:

Scuttled

I picture him sinking now into the water,
a sad trombone wah wahs along on the soundtrack.

He clutches a flag and he waves it despondently.
A captain goes down with the ship, sure. But since he

is made all of ashes his hands are so tiny,
his fists formed from only one crystal of salt.

We wave to each other. My eyes burn so sharply.
There’s no fear of drowning. The fishes pass through

.