I have my bucket provided by the park
And I have my long-handled pincers
For capturing scraps without bending my knee.
I am picking up trash from the high tide line.
A few days ago the seas were rough,
The flag was red and it stayed red
For the rest of the week.
That was when the weather swept the sea.
And the seaweed is masterful
At holding bits of balloons and ribbon
Nylon rope, bottle caps, partial containers
Pen carcasses, toothbrushes without bristles . . .
Some plastic turns brittle like eggshell
As if waiting for any kind of human contact to disintegrate.
There are spoons and forks from take-out,
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