seaward glance

Sun and tide lapped the beach as one,
my borrowed sandals fit.
Chips of shell or bottle or bone
ordained the sand around me.
Free angles carry frames in shops
by way of light to my eye.
A seaward glance I chance and meet
a fey and dying boat.
Struck and stoned, I could not move,
its sinking I see still.

I never carry a camera,
my eyes are lens,
the image drawn in
is beholden to itself,
redemptive in the execution
of my memory.