This is a story about losing the ocean
and the minister for the ocean
is standing on the reclaimed timber boardwalk
adjusting her scarf as if for prayer—how can you
lose an ocean—she’s
still there: the water, the salt
the slime, the rocks
washed
latte scum
in a rockpool fish
or bits of bio-compostable
red-dyed takeaway cup gull
ravaged and left to rot
and the minister for the ocean who is lost
adjusts her face, her favourite news crew is waiting
their dark coats catching the sun like cormorant
wings splayed out in the wind—how can you
lose an ocean in
these winds in the water
the salt the coal
the lead the mineral sand
the drought
the dieback hard the rising
smog the city
exhaust
and the minister for the ocean begins to preach
her favourite news-crew cameras panning
over the sand the sharks the rays the skates the mulloway
the wobbegong the cuttlefish still in its ghastly skin—how can you lose
the sharks the rays the
pippis the sponges the kelp
to algal
bloom the water
the water
warm the algal
mass unbroken the hungry
expanding
this colony
the minister for the ocean arranges her scarf as if for prayer