Polished light glances off the wood.

The wheel is salvaged always
and lives where possible.
The wreckage makes a collection box.
In time odd pieces float
in to the glass of the museum.

The fisherman’s bride in the corner
wears silk stiff as bones.
Wind and salt are peeling
the skin off the beach.
The fisherman’s bride is dressed
in the colours of the sea.

First published in Thanet Writers, (2020). Inspired by an exhibit at Folkestone Museum