Oh Buoy

moments of civilisation
peek out of the sand

and mental maps amend
for makeshift paths of
flattened grass

take note of
patterned shell arrangements,
weathered glass,

the coals of teenage experience
and picnic relics:

paper plates and
olive pips
schnitzeled
in mammal ancestors

six hundred million

generations past.

a wave peeks back
and curls into the shore
like a century,
pushing on the corners
of everything -

oh buoy,
it’s effortless.