This broken digit of the sea intrudes
Between two humpbacked ridges; tamarack,
Jackpine and fir, reflected in the tides'
Long brackish finger, lean over and protect.
Here balsam and the low-tide pungencies
Commingle and, high up the shingle beach,
Rejected by the sea, the driftwood lies
Like shapes of Proteus shucked off; a thatch
Of shreds and dead grass beards the water-mark.
Below, in the dominion of the crab
Where mossy oysters, clinging to the rock,
Yawn mother-of-pearl maws, the flounders rub
Their bellies in the mud; the worm-cod lie
Kelp-shadowed where the sea-ferns lean, and light
Marine and mottled, enters gradually.
Between the two, half in, half out, I float.
Although both air and brine are in the blood
This arbitrary surface of the seas
Divides -yet I would live below and build
A wrack-weed nest among anemones.