trout

Do Not Take The Shellfish

Simon Williamson

bluebottles washed up on the beach
striding across the sand
a poet and his dog
every now and then stopping to pick up sticks
and hurl them with the wind
the dog lopes after them

a lone shopping cart
lies half-submerged in sand
sun glinting off metal
two kids jump in it and play
they are landing Apollo on the moon again
one giant step again

planes disappear into the sky
leaving a trail of vapour cloud
a radio sounds, the faint muffle of guitars
drowned out by the thumping bass of the ocean

the type of fax machines
drowned out by the ocean
the ring of telephones
drowned out by the ocean
hydraulic drills
rugby teams
courts
papers
murderers
saints
nymphomaniacs' moans
drowned out by the ocean

whole nations
world wars
ferry disasters
drowned out by the ocean
but around the Point
where shit and tampons float
and gathering kai moana is forbidden
whole ecosystems

drowned out by councils
with tunnel vision
flushing promises
of milliscreens
with shit
into the bed
of Tangaroa
who has moved elsewhere
and left only dead pāua
like a rebuke upon the rocks