Friday, April 16, 2021

Washing Up RJ Gardham

 Oily rainbows slide over bubbles

On the surface of the roiling sea.

White foam clings to high dock walls

Of metal and chain all silvery.

I dive. The water is gemlike;

A brilliant, viscous green.

Slippery and hot, it washes past

Then through it an object is seen.

A wreck. Lying at the bottom,

Uniform shadow and shiny too.

The hull is blotched, tiny particles

Clinging on in the ocean blue.

What manner of barnacle locks on tight

With jaws of burn and blackened bite?

A swish of the hand, the stain wipes clean

To ceramic white and glazed sheen.

The limpets fall loose, the wreck is revealed,

A porcelain yacht with concave core

The prize moves upward, caught in a swell

To float above in the world once more.

Surfacing. Air. There’s more below

Wrecks and their treasure waiting to show

What hidden prizes are submerged, aglow.

I sigh. A few more pots to go.

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