For Chay – something to forget me by

Leave the frogmen to the reservoir,
the dredgers to their reach,
& fetch your ‘neo-demon’ magnet
down to the Lethean stream 

of a feeder canal. Then fish me from
the bed of my last sleep by
the lodestones in my pockets, the
lead weights round my feet, 

& iron filings of alloy fillings like
grapeshot between my teeth.
‘The bullion dross’, the slag of love,
all the treasures of the deep