The surface rises
Creeps up shoreline, as we beckon it closer behind our backs
Spreads oil floats bags and bottles
The blue is robbed
Raided of masses and less
                        to nourish
The twilight zone
Sharks are apex predators; they kill off weak eliminate disease
They do not need cutlery or plates
do not need their meals wrapped up in takeaway
Fish would taste like poison if there’s anything
left to find
Even the midnight zone
is hurting
We have reached the ocean thousands of kilometres from its surface
There, we see the beach change
Dive over snapped white coral draped in fishing line
One degree Celsius higher than this time last year, my wetsuit stays dry
Supermarket shelves stocked with ‘flake’ that outlives all of us (or at least, is supposed to)
disguised as nothing just a flake just flake just the apex predator
Cleaning the ocean we swam in all summer
Supermarket shelves stocked with salmon and tuna and sardines canned up in aluminium
Fish don’t have emotions how can they feel pain there is nothing urgent about a few centimetres or degrees
There’s nothing to do nothing to change
Make sure you eat all the cod on your plate
We need coral to breathe oxygen comes from the sea so kick it over
Hook it in
We walk by the beach in December
Rest on sand zero metres about sea level
Wonder how the twilight is doing under all this sun
Already, there is enough pressure