They’ll drunk

or sun-lulled or too too

to give a good goddamn

leave their flotsam

bobbing

or snagged on windfall branches

where the draft is too shallow

for eco-conscience to prevail

or where snappers are rumored

and one dare not toe in

stuff chucked in vengeance

stuff that’s knocked or slips over gunwale

or off deck rails

commemorative hats family reunion kit

orphaned sandals

dead soldier empties

Chardonnay bottles that’ll one day wash up

messaging no one

with nothing to say