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Poetry Magnum Opus


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 Pools closest to the edge are best. Salt water
     where the hares - sea slugs - graze on gut weed.
All critters shrivel in the sun further up the beach.

The latest dad clocks a hermit crab in a periwinkle shell.
    They can't grow their own, he says.
I scoop the squatter into mum's tupperware before it scarpers.

This dad thinks he knows stuff that I don't. They all do.  
   A starfish has no brain, heart or blood. If a predator
grabs an arm, it drops off and escapes. It grows another one. Fact.

And starfish are not happy out of the water. The tips of the arms
 curl upwards when they're stressed. The new dad
has a mermaid tattoo on his arm. It doesn't look like mum.

He's wearing flip-flops. Trip-traps when you clamber barnacled rock
   and over the slippery tongues of bladderwrack. I should know.
 I find him a Mermaid's Purse.  He's a definite maybe. Like the last one.

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Thanks Tink. Yes, resilient is the right word.



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