At water’s edge
I plied the sand
for vacant shells
and stones to skip,
so flat.
There,
there was a tree
that had given up,
acute in its angle,
embarrassed at the nakedness of its bleached roots.
Close by,
an eyeless carcass grinned,
in the throes of its last hysterics.
At the beach, in morning fog
Aremyfeetofftheground 