when spring arrives ice flows out of the bay

when spring arrives

the ice flows out of the bay

but the dead dolphin does not.

something is eating him,

portions of his tail gone,

a fin.

a creature with sharp claws

has opened a gash in dolphin’s soft underbelly

from which still red entrails fall

onto flattened marsh grass

and what was once beautifully poetic

turns macabre,

frightening,

disintegrating,

the promise of resurrection eradicated

in the reality

of what remains,

and what remains

is what is never more,

in spring,

when the ice flows out.