I have always been at home among the blue waves
From the day my dad carried me 
Bright pink towhead in a zero to 3 onesie
Into the tender surf and held me safe in his arms
As we rode-floated the gently lapping sea
To brush up on the warm sand
Beneath the old Singer Island bridge
But one blue-hot July
For my birthday I nearly died in a red tide
After a shellfish meal that got a crabby attitude
Among corrupt algae off the New England coast
That’s the thing about toxins that bloom 
In the hearts of things we love
They will sicken just about everyone 
And some will die
This time too
But theirs is an unsure and temporal grip
The sea is always deeper 
More resourceful and hopeful
Timeless in the face of the red tide
That comes for its wretched season
I have seen it come without greeting
And I will watch it go without regret