After The Hurricane

Along the beach for miles and miles

there was driftwood and other debris

kicked up from the hurricane down south,

Varieties of shells I hadn’t seen for years,

a glass ball from a Japanese fishing ship,

a kid’s tricycle tangled in a pile of sea weed,

plastic bottles and other items, too small to identify,

and a Barbie doll, her hair all wild,

not a piece of clothing, her breast exposed.

I picked up a conch shell and held it to my ear

“Help me!” was all I heard.

I picked up the Barbie,

and took her home to wash her face

and brush her hair,

wrapped her in a pink fleece blanket

then listened to her adventures about the turbulent sea.