Bounty of Debris

by Joe Bisicchia

​

​

After all the shattering of glass,

all the pouring of sky onto the pond, 

all the raining of catfish and dogs, 

all the texts from my iPhone

now lost below my feet,

find me amidst the flotsam and

I’ll find you amidst the jetsam.

And we shall root for buoyancy,

for shared purpose like porpoises,

and finely get along. Or not.

 

I go with the gambit of better things.

I say we shall see eternity over what bobs.

Artificial goes so much the nourishment, 

only to firm plastic our hearts.

 

Were we not made to be pliant?

Then, find you and I’ll find me.

So full of sea, and other things,

a sea itself so full of things, and yet 

empty as the solitary go adrift.

None of us must go amiss in the mix.

 

Let me offer you my fin.