Combing

Nothing for your pocket here:
these bricks with sea-smoothed

edges, blocks of terracotta butter
covering the sand. I push at lumps

of grey and black, my boot seeking
the crunch of razor clam. A derelict

factory, reduced to rubble-crumbs
now buffers these unsteady dunes,

heaves them back on unnatural
shoulders, obliterating pebble, shell.

Combing