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. (c) RJ Gardham
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