These are not mud flats, a
boat held instead by a clean
weight of stones.

Wrecks sink to the depths
or display their wear and tear
for amateur snappers.

Is it the alliteration
or proliferation which makes this
so common?

As if the sea has
painted it: old rope here is a
nostalgic attachment,

or the fake news of a tourist trap;
its flaking are colours uncertain of their place
in the composition.

That blue boat in black and white
speaks for knowing or hope
over evidence.

I once hung a black fishing net
in patterns across the cottage’s beams and
orange wall for a similar aesthetic.