Structural Integrity

I found a gritty handful of the coast

hiding in the pocket of my autumn coat.

It’s a souvenir from when you were a ghost

and I was still trying to keep us afloat.

We built a fortress with a plastic yellow spade,

packing the silt until it felt like a wall.

You stood up fast in the mess we had made

and brought your heel down to finish it all.

You didn't even look at the towers you broke

or the way the moat filled back up with the tide.

It wasn't a tantrum, it wasn't a joke,

just a need to see nothing was left on your side.