Trash above Treasure

Trash above Treasure 

by Hannah Janicke

The sun creeps through 

the marine layer,
I step out into the misty air
Salty dew enveloping

my senses

My dogs bolting ahead,

wrestling, rolling 

like maniacs.

It’s stupid and pure—
their chaos makes more 

sense than most things.

Then I see something that 

makes me seethe 
A pack of middle-aged

large bellies 

stretching nylon shirts,
sweeping metal detectors 

over the sand
On a beach covered in trash,

they're hunting treasure.

Not one of them notices

plastic bags 

tangled in seaweed,
bottle caps

wedged in the tide line,
Instead of sand dollars washing 

up from the sea, 
Plastic lids now decorate 

our shore

So I do what I always do, 

I grab the city-issued

trash can,
wheel it to the shore,

and start picking up what

I can stomach to touch.

My dogs play.
Other people’s dogs 
eat plastic.
Their owners panic,

yell, blame the beach.

Everyone’s on edge
But no one lifts a finger.
I get looks—
like I’m the weird one
for picking up garbage 

with bare hands.
But, I can wash my hands.
The ocean can’t rid

itself of the plastic.

Today, I leave the trashcan
right next to the 

treasure hunters,
lid open,
just to see if they’ll 

get the hint...
    they don’t.

But who do you blame,
when it’s everyone?

The beach, 

forgotten

and sacrificed

for single use 

plastics

Plastic doesn’t die,
forever breaking down
smaller & smaller

microplastics forever
Until our children's 

grandchildren have children
this plastic will haunt 

our oceans:

A reminder of 

a dark time,
when convenience 

beat consciousness.