the sanderling’s maybe
limpets flotsam and boats
upon the tides of history
not even the rocks endure
taking the limpets with them
storms the boats into flotsam
beliefs into froth
at high tide the iguanas
at bottom water the rock fools
there in the lulls thought floats
its smears oiling in the sun
then they turn
the tides of everything
sanderlings’ maybe
maybe not
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