Beached Dolphin

My crouched shape a concentrated black
in that dull eye, my hand on flesh still
pliant to the touch yet wholly other.
Save for a dampness round half-moon spout
it bears no trace of its element, lies
islanded in sand. A sea burial
beyond my strength, I walk on, return to find
some vanished beachcomber has rolled that
body with faint markings like a code,
undulant ridges of fin, back beneath
surf, to edge through turquoise till pressure
gives a kind of poise: then the pulling
apart by teeth and tides, the dispersal,
the re-entry into cells of water.