Tidelands

We live here, mollusks
Washed by riches. By dearth
And drought. Rolled over,
Nudged by breath.

The long stink of marsh
Is ours to lose.
The moon, pooled by night,
Pale and harsh,

Scuds in the brine,
In glimmers of noon
And weeds of bone:
The grasses’ long line.

Still the bore
Of morning purls
In wrack and brine,
Spores that from its fatal pillage shine.

October 11th, 2020
Kailua