A jagged bead of broken glass
A tangle of knotted rope
Thirty years of poetry
A hidden life, a way to cope
Two rounded stones with golden swirls
Twisting galaxies that once fit together
A cracked bucket, a rusted lantern
An empty binder of scuffed leather
Curled leaves and sodden bark
A train of severed flower heads
A weathered yellow pencil
A mass of seaweed ripped to shreds
A hundred empty bottles
A crushed and faded can
An iron lung, a diving mask
The crutches of a tired man
A chain that weighs too heavy
A house one carries on their back
A retreating guarded crab
A limpet, a shark preparing for attack
A rubber ring, a steel anchor
A porthole frame, a torn off screw
Brown clouds of sand in shallow water
The melancholy eyes of ocean blue
Buttons, fabric, laces and shoes
A wily darting electric eel
The churn of ancient machinery
A planet fighting to heal
An empty clamshell, a vacant cradle
The poison of secret release
A tumult of swollen waves to break
A set reduced to the final piece
These things we pulled from the sea
These things are you and me…
