Beachcomber Nocturne

by Lupita Eyde-Tucker

Pink seafoam leaves odd gifts for me to find:
a puffed-up man-o-war, a mermaid’s purse,

empty lady slippers, Sargasso weed,
as if these things could fill my human needs.

I push my toes beneath the cold, damp sand,
observe the ocean’s purple evening.

A loggerhead rides up and heaves her bulk
to dig a hole, deposit future in the dark.

Until she’s done and slips back out to sea
I sit and match her labored breath to mine.

This sea: a Chevy engine revving high
reminding me how everything’s design.