Buoys float on blue-green brine
In flares of flaking chicory reds
On alloys of rusted parts
As chains act as anchors nearby
Harbored ports, littered with
Boats along the coast.
Oils discolour with toxicity
As its poisons fill up gills
Of the poor little fishies
In delirious quantities
In noxious dreary knolls.
Booms contain whilst skimmers collect;
Missing forgotten ambiguities
Of misconceptions in disbelief.