the little pointy bits
up and down, and in lunes
the edge at the correct angle
ground to perfection.
your fingers dug into the sand under it
it stung, dying, unconscious
that it was seen, by the sea.
for all it’s worth
a jellyfish
unaware of its own passing.
did you drop it?
the sand through your fingers, little
chunks of unclear water, one
more step, and maybe
maybe the brine will turn
the pale gel-blob into a globe
and take it away.
knee-deep in water
you released your cramped fingers
the sand sank to the floor,
the feeble tentacles
buoyant, curved,
and the wave
carried the shreds
past your shins to the shore.
when you turned,
the pale yellow was dotted
with pink, grey and all
almost perfect, after a storm
had done its sorting.
One thought on “in and out, and in, and out”