I carry the estuary on my back, a deadweight of scuttled boats and brackish puddles, dirty rook scrub sinking into broken clam beds and cloud scudded mudflats. Keel to sky I sway on sea-legs, hauling a breached hull of cracked amphoras filled with silt, all these years and still no catch to land. Wind scuffs the aimless arrows of a sea bird’s footprints in the black and copper sand.