"A Century Find" from Richard Price's third collection, Rays

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A Century Find

High up the beach, sea debris resolved in lines--

brittle black--dry seaweed and ribboned bark. That's

a stretching step.

We've gained the sand.

Footfall hallmarks the sifted acres.

We're goldsmiths of the shifting commonwealth,

brand in bulk.

Outpace the gusts and there's a rock to race to,

exceed. The tide

is lapping away (the force in gentleness):

we're the centre of all murmur--

no ocean can shoosh us.

Slowly, secrets. The confidence to confide . . .

I was, you were . . . I am, you are . . .

*

In your displaying hand a hard small shell,

offwhite, convincing pure,

drilled the once with a dainty calibre

(incremental parasite or shock-quick beak?)

Hard?--frail, sea-crushable.

Creature-perfected, capable

of a low whistle. Strung on silver,

the central jewel: a century find

to fulfil a necklace.

You throw it--so far out

it's still in your fist.

Richard Price

Rays (Carcanet, 2009)

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