Secret Life of Bin (Lost at Sea)

Sluggish cargo ships, predators of snails,
Haul and shed their containers, lost at sea,
Submersible Bin banged-on lose nails
Tumbling like a wheelchair down the stairs

In a rocky ecosystem. Far above, birds of prey
Push the melting sky of bright clouds, capture
Any jumping fish, recycled cardboard of the day,
Absorb toxics and digest adhesives, bits of lure.

Bin overhears a sordid meeting: Pirates cut
Their asking price. “Every hostage must go!”
Liquidation of oil, fumy fumes and feuds gut
Dissect chemical analysis, fencing cyclones.

Waves away, floating beside finback whales that lunge
And plunge to feed their new slogan: Save the carbon sinks!
Bin tries to seine fish as if a weighted gaping cavity sponge
They just swim out again, “no tanks,” it thinks.

Tide-turned, bumped against a seamount, this flotsam
Treasure buries a robotic arm still hinged, under-utilized
With the mechanics of a spiny lobster muscled claw
Pent-up lashings Captain Hook never fantasized.

In the darkness, a tiger shark (tagged for monitoring)
Investigates Bin, takes a bite outta him, loses interest,
What a nightmare. Dreams of Atlantis, ancient things,
Contents absorbed by the power of tsunamis, hints
Left deep in the marshlands on the coast of Spain.

Water seeps into the wound, enough to tip, dip and gulp
Bin won’t wash up ashore, oh no, sinking evermore,
To the sea floor, a shifty edge, a sanctuary of writhing kelp
Sadly a different story, if Bottle had written home

This note: “Made it safely but Bin’s adrift.
Send a boat.”

                      Previously published in Sea Stories, Littoral Currents Issue. 




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