tidal retreat

at low tide
the sand is swept
with small stones
and shells -
and bits of plastic
dug in like blue whelks -
string fronds emulate
jellyfish tendrils -
trace of memory
of containment -
pressed indents of transit
gather pools from the tabletop -
wet bed of grit
now exposed to other elements -
lapsed transparent canopy
blank now and bare to the sun -
reflecting nothing -
draining slowly dry
aching for the return
of an ocean
that for now
has forgotten.