this evening my memory turned translucent
like the bloom of moon jellyfish
we saw behind glass, exactly ten years ago
in an aquarium swim-dreaming neon

or, like the other time, I cannot remember
exactly how long ago, but you were toe-digging
sand on a summer holiday when the coastline
turned plasma out of the slush blue because there
it was trapped, pinned with broken bits of sea-shells
cushioned in brine, dead but refusing to decay

closer home, translucent like the used plastic bag
you let go from your hand yesterday unnoticed
now circling over some ocean yearning to hold
water over the wind mirroring tide swells