A bottle with a message
floated in upon the tide.
The sea is blue and so am I,
said the note inside.

Next day on the beach,
a plastic bag washed up.
Inside, another letter:
Come rescue me. I’m stuck.

In the kelp, a cry for help:
drowning in Styrofoam,
written on a coffee cup,
beneath Latte 4 Jerome.

The day after, thin tubes
were spread along the shore,
spelling out the words:
T H E  F I N A L  S T R A W.

Two weeks on, the beach was plastic.
Itself, an unanswered message:
castaways washed up on the sand,
and out to sea, the wreckage.