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Seadrift Treasure
To my brother, Michael
Two boys playing in a rock pool, their nets
scooping up secrets,
do you remember, Mike, how we were?
shoulders tanned as sand,
the boys carry tin pails
with painted crabs and seahorses
from the sea's edge -
and then,
over the years,
over grey carpet tiles,
to our office desks, PCs and files -
'Look what we've found!'. We adjust our ties,
peer down at dingy
seawater, dead crabs, dull pebbles.
'Can you come and play with me now?' And all
we can tell them, those two shivering boys
with their seadrift treasure, is
'Later, later'.
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