Sandbar

rocking like a sand bar
in current, particles flowing off
with every wave, there goes
what I loved, here comes
what I’ll love now, shape
shifting, now crescent, now
straight line, now blockage
to tides, now broken barrier,
perhaps husks will wash up
and bulk me up, perhaps
I’ll be an island, perhaps
a continent

or maybe I’ll
wash away, get into
the seabed, become a beach, 
grit in someone’s shoes, dragged
or carried inland, washed off
in a cold shower, down a drain, 
end up at rest far from home,

a memory of past nautical history,
found in a crime scene, mystery of
forensics, evidence of change,
cryptozoological marker,
here was a mermaid passing
at some point, a kraken, a dead sailor,
pirate gold, something, anything to spark
an imagination,

the mundane nature
of what I’d been lost, no record 
of what loves I’d lost and gained, 
my mere physical trace all that remains
and that much of me made to tell a story
I’m not a part of,

as the ocean
takes me in without making me a part,
as the drain carries me away
without calling me to itself to stay.