A spring tide |
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pigged on wrack |
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|
has strewed |
its picnic |
hard-sucked orange |
bleach flasks |
peppermint creamcleaners |
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Perhaps
if they were
cleaned
they
would appeal
to a collector,
these vessels,
slim
as Cycladic
dolls,
tar-spangled,
vaguely familiar,
some a little more
pneumatic,
all precious
because we
have no
plastic.
abraded lemon grime-removers |
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red bitten |
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teats of sports drinks |
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suntan lotions |
weather-beaten |
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toilet ducks |
along the beach |
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We need
the old
capacious
baskets
folk called creels,
sturdy and curved
as clamshells
to gather in
the spill.
But we
have only
swimming bags
we’ve woven
from flag
iris leaves.
And then
we see
the whale.