Beach Comber

My Nemesis speaks
in the vernacular
from her slips

faces made of
sun ray pleats
drink the
ancient catch

and abandon
her hull to
salt rusty scabs
and perches of
weary godwits

she aches for
waterline modesty
and thin slices
of whale song
on melba toast

southerlies scour
her gentility
she curses
my pockets
filled with paua
and bleached
seal teeth