A murder by the sea

Yesterday,

when you were looking at something else,

I saw a frail, old lady by the sea

with a thin white braid

the ends of which curled up her neck

in a curiously perfect circle.

I found her movements odd,

slow and laboured

and wondered why she’d go still

each time I looked her way.

When I caught her in an unguarded moment

I saw that she was plucking letters

out of a thick bundle

and throwing them into the sea.

They were all unopened, unread.

I thought of foxes muzzled in plastic jars

turtles choked in rings

egrets wading through trash

and felt a swift flash of irritation.

But, I looked away

to find the end of your gaze

and saw a lady chasing

a blue balloon

her silky black abaya

flapping against her knees.

The wind nudged the balloon away

each time she almost touched it,

and as her son screamed in joy

I forgot to be angry.

I looked again at the old lady

her hands were still plucking nervously

at a slightly slimmer bundle.

There was a dustbin quite close to her

but I think she wanted to

drown her letters.