Sea Lace
Spinning, unravelling
Tumbling, heaving, a race
A moment, a pattern
Like Nottingham lace
Spun far away
From these bamboo limbs
And sand hotter than I’ve ever felt.
My ancestors toiled endlessly
but I sit on this shore
watching a stranded log
home to several gasping anemone
teetering
While he fetches a camera
To record the strange vision.
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