The Boys of Labadi Beach

On the shores of Labadi Beach, live harbingers of treasure:
Star fish, cowry shells, snails sweet as coconut,
Coke bottles, broken, cut and polished into ocean emeralds,
Magic stones--sacrificial offerings.
Oblation for the sons of Teshie, the children of Nungua,
Barefoot village boys, no shirts, no knickers, no fees for school.
Yet they are abosom--gods of the beach.

Up and down Labadi, they alone, can find the treasure
Power-drilled by sand and water, spiral tunnels, filled with magic.
"Good luck . . . in here," the beach boys promise,
Raising them to the African sun: transubstantiation.
Ancient magic, under the species of stone.

"Five thousand cedis," they say, "six on down the way."
Two dollars can feed a family for a day; I buy the useless rock.
The boys of Teshie and Nungua, heads bowed,
Counting money and good luck,
Disappear, leaving behind only land-turtle trails
To be eaten by the next hungry wave.