Flotsam by Paula Knight Caught fast on the littoral Sessile on the beach Entangled in the flotsam Close to land that's out of reach A hermit crab approaches To make my mouth its home My bones disintegrating To dust and sandy loam Barnacles are resident Along my crumbling spine A fine replacement backbone In an orderly blue line Patiently awaiting The tide to turn about To wash up on the shore And gently float us out Magnesium and briny balm Replenishing the cells If I can't stand on dry land again Perhaps the sea will suit me well
36 // Paula Knight