Sea Burial<br > o VOU relnelnber this?<br > A broken engine; the hours becalming; an empty ocean still<br > as a lake of mercury. It was soundless to the horizon and our small<br > noises placed us at the centre of the universe， unique in our activity.<br > From time to time a spanner clinked， a bare foot bumped a thwart.<br > From tile vinyl-scented shade of a rigged tarpaulin we watched our<br > tiny ripples becmne visible only as they left the Medevhla s shadow，<br >trembling outward， as if the shadow s edge were the actual hull，<br >our whole craft insubstantial， no more than an airy nothing which<br >bad briefly come between sun and sea. The mutter of voices (Try<br >this. lt~ rusty. The gasket s ru#led，)， the rasp and flare of a match，<br >the incense of a cigarette. The small splash of a handful of waste.<br >And then， emerging front the shadow into gorgeous colour like the<br >tip of a kingfisher s wing， an iridescent oil-stain flashing its<br >molecules， splitting the spectrum and creeping out across the<br >water. Do you remember how dazzling it was? That spreading<br >puddle of hues in a still world of primary blue? Greens and purples，<br >golds and pinks， rubies and violets， forming and re-forming，<br >pooling and glittering minutely so the fascinated mind drew ever<br >closer to its surface and felt into a microscope s gaze such that the<br >twinkle and sputter of evaporation almost became visible， the<br >spirituous fractions boiling off in order of their volatility.<br > The sun climbed and remained stuck at the top of the sky.<br >Sometimes we stood up or wandered aft to peer at the dismantled<br >earburettor. The parts were black with oil and rust--deformed，<br >even: corroded artefacts turned up by a plough rather than<br >precision-engineered components. Our shifting weight as we<br >moved about the narrow boat made one bamboo outrigger gently<br >dent the water， the other rise and shed a line of droplets. The<br >brilliant oil-stain fractured. Feathers and petals broke off， some<br >drifting perversely back into our shadow and winking out. A<br >flotilla of melding islets moved into the glare beyond the outrigger，<br >sending back scorching chromatic flashes. The hours passed. Fish<br >and rice to eat， the bowls washed over the side and fat replenishing<br >the film until--do you remember?--a peacock sheen surrounded<br >our soundless universe， marbled and swirled and striated. In a<br >halo of specious glory our little boat sat and baked， breathing out<br >its rainbowed auima.<br >