The Turning Of The Tide

 

Walking along the beach at sunset

A romantic moment at holiday’s end

The sand and condoms slip between our toes

The dying red rays reflecting in rock pools of piss

And glinting off discarded coco-cola bottles

Children collecting the shell-like husks of food cartons

And skimming smooth flat plastic plates into the sea

Surf lapping gently against the shore

It’s gentle sway exposing beached shit

A sculpture made of carefully balanced beer cans

Sways in the fetid rotting garbage breeze

That drifts across the miles of golden litter dunes

We look out towards the horizon and imagine that we hear

The aching groan of the ocean

And feel the accusatory gaze of the setting star

As small dead fish gather around our feet

The sun-kissed hoards take home their memories

And leave behind their empty souls

We are paddling in man-kinds hubris

Knee deep in human negligence and waste

And the tide is silently turning