swirl of anonymity

let's try this again.

Belmar '52

In this one,
you are standing on the beach with your sisters. Five

ruby-lipped brunettes
too young to think of storms.

Link your arms. Dig your feet
into sand that sinks.

Fight the sound of raging winds
that barrel in off the Atlantic.

Laugh your throats dry.
Give The Ocean Hell.

The sea-weed strewn about your ankles:
it is silk, not slime.

Too young for storms. In this one,

Glide your wrinkled hand, nail-polish chipped and pink,
across the faces years wore down.

Say their names. Feel pearls roll smooth in your mouth.
Think not of death.

Of the solitude
of white plaster walls. Echoes down the hall

from an invalid - Hear them not.
Scream your throat dry.

Give the ocean hell.
You are too young for calm seas,

for the splatter crash dance undulating fire
of sunsets that smolder to lavendar and cream.

Keep your back to the sea. In this one vulnerable day

that wanes and sucks
its ocean down -

cold water down
the bathtub's drain,

and when you bathe, the sponge that moves
itself on you - not soap:

Sea-Foam. Don't close your eyes.
The hands that lift you to your bed are not hands at all.

They are schools of fish.
Shame that burns your cheeks red,

brings navy to your sunken eyes
isn't shame at all.

It is sunburn and soft bruise. In this one,

you were too young. You are too young for storms.
Feel splinters from a coral reef.

Touch salt that stings your skin
and laugh through the sensation.

Give The Ocean Hell.

posted by swirl of anonymity @ 8:23 PM