We found the thing
  on our walk,
   vacant, drinking the waves.
You tugged it
  from the mush,
   rolled your fingers
over its wet knobbles
  like kneecaps or ankles.
   What a find.
Held it up,
  let sunlight glimmer
   from its clotted cream body,
felt the smooth blancmange
  pink interior and said
   you have it
no you have it.
  I put the shape to my ear,
   listened for the sea
but heard hushes, whispers
  whirring within a dark room.
   I had to own it in the end.
Able to keep
  part of the beach
   but not you,
not you.