Once you might have called it a skein or a scrim.
Should merest light shine behind it, light pushed through it.
But when water pushed in its snout, this cheesecloth
used to soak the sweat from *coeur a la creme*
was sour as rennet. It floated away just like any
other bit of trash on its way to wherever trash goes
when all used up, which is where the bodies went too;
and that is why you sometimes saw them together,
washed up on some muddy spit as if this was how the dead
contrived to cover their spastic vulnerable sprawl