Every acre, bend
in the tidal
estuary, schist foundation,
Douglas fir fungal network,
scorched field, baymouth bar at daybreak
has its own story.

We interrupt the telling
with another stolen narrative.

Oil stains on concrete and deadly fumes
didn’t kill the baby starfish
we captured to keep
as a pet in a bucket
in the beach house garage—
we did.

We interrupt the telling
with another stolen narrative

repeated like a broken meme
till a final dissolve recalls
the most invasive species before
it’s too late.