We found your shirt deep in the dark water,caught on the clothesline of sleeping pills.Your head on the shore was streaming tearslike sleeves or the coronas of saints savedfrom fire. The burning bush began cryinglike a child who misses his mother. Trafficslammed shut like an eye. God’s mean left hookknocked us out, and we began swimming.Bruises bloomed like algae on a lake.Your father beat your chest and screamedfor someone to open a window. The airstopped breathing. Fish clogged its gills.Birds sang too loudly, trying to drown outyour father’s cries, but all their sweetnesswas not enough. No polite noises will be madeanymore, he told us, clawing your breastbone.He opened your heart to air again. Camelsflowed from you both like water from the rock.God spoke up, but nobody listened to him.We hung you up on the line to dry.