Warm weather low tide.

Hope Your curiosity  didn’t spark a storm

that you now can’t control

the words that you refrain from using

the scribbled notes flying in that

minds eye down at low tide

the one you imagined

trawling nets along the banks

ships carcuses trying to refloat

But submerged

the stranglehold of the sands

on its worn hull

the identity flaking and peeling