At high tide, the sea ejects
foam and glass fishing floats.
We wait for the waters to recede,
tiptoe around anemones and *****;
I spot a small green globe.
She says it belongs to a Japanese goddess,
her eyes plucked out by a vengeful lover
and cast into the deep.
I see only an old sake bottle
crafted into a sphere,
etched with sand and netting patterns.
Tomorrow, I will look for agates
while she searches for the goddess’s other eye.
