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…