Rolled by waves from its moor in silt,
the tide’s drag unveils a mouthful emptied of muscle.
Tampered by crabs, cracked by gulls, their heads
sundered on cobble, the morsel of gold weighed in
with throat slicking relish. Open caskets on shorelines
wait for beachcombers to claim them - domes
of brittle frill. Gifts from the Queen of the sea.
Your treasure becomes a nucleus of silence, tinted
with whispered sounds of the sea. Risen from the dead
to a bathroom shelf - nuzzled on occasion against
a human ear, desiring to remember its gathering day.
The hiss and boom, the bubbled swoosh cut into
the grooves – the trickle through fingers decanting
palm measured weirs of sand.