A plastic sheet, a bottle top, a sheet of rubber,
a sponge,
A plastic spoon, a thousand straws, scattered
across the sand,
A lady’s shoe, a toddler’s shoe - who lost them
who would know?
A toothbrush caked in sewer sludge, back from sea
to land.
Another wave, this time brings, a bottle of green
tea,
No preservatives, no colouring, and yet won’t rot
away.
Another sheet, another sponge, wrapped in rope and
weed,
Another squid lure smiling, its hook long perished
away.
More yellow rope, more neon string, a coconut
gleams gold,
Another lighter, a bicycle pedal, grey beneath the
sand.
A sheared off lid of gasoline, a lid of Nescafe,
A bottle this time of herbal tea, made in Vietnam.
A lump of wood from a shipwrecked ship, painted toothpaste
blue,
A plastic float, another shoe - this time 42.
A pineapple top, more lures and line, how many
squid they catch!
A packet of durian crackers, high in iron and
crap.
A measuring jug half-filled with sand, another can
from Vietnam...
A brother and sister no more than 12, still in
their school clothes,
Wash out a bag and walk the beach, collecting
bottles and cans.
But they leave the lures, the wooden planks, the
lighters, shoes and rope,
The straws, the string, the plastic spoons, the
countless plastic cups,
The fishing line, the endless bags - there’s no
money in any of those!
Oh what a shame that plastic, isn’t worth its
weight in gold...
