Tuesday Poem – Washed up in the shallows

Bright orange snail shells
a ten-limbed starfish
half a plastic gun
and the dangerous part of a crab.

A high-pitched boy kicks waves at his family
as they put cockle shells into a shopping bag.

There’s a glass bottle filled with sand
black lumps of wood like rocks
a chewed lion red can
and a rust-coloured skull.

Then it’s just sticks. Sticks and foam
all the way down to the last curve.