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  • Then I lived on the island and scratched a living from the sea
    Money was scarce
    Time I had

    After storms I walked the shores
    Searching for treasure
    Cedar, oak and mahogany
    Washed away from the boatyards
    Wooden crates
    Plastic buckets
    Buoys and toggles
    And rope.

    Rope washed up in great tangles on the long rocky shores
    Other men’s gear
    caught and snarled together by the waves ferocity
    wrapped and woven with weed and kelp
    jammed between rocks
    knotted tight

    I found the tangled piles
    just beyond the waves searching reach
    quiet, patient
    found a single strand to focus on
    and worked them out by holding fast to that one
    turning wrack and ruin into neat coils
    to use another day
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