PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

It's a sweaty job

chair folded under one arm

a fresh bruise on my thigh

from the swinging weight

of the icebox.

A widebrim hat

shadows my face with basketweave

and my sunglasses are

divorcing my nose.

I squint in the face

of no obligations.



I drop my arms

and the sand leaps up to catch

my beachtowel and umbrella

Untied laces and sticky socks

Rubbing gritty sand

between my anemic toes.

My legs are bare to the wind

and I can feel the air catch

the tiny hairs of my stomach

as I shimmy from my shirt.



The sand curves to the

beg of my body

Here to cradle my tired calves

with the heat of sunburn

and the rush of chilled cider

The waves curl into the

sizzling shore

and my head relaxes into

my soft

glass pillow



Who knew

I whisper to the sandfleas

as they jump between

the towers of my knees

that the sun too would hold

me ransom to her guilt

of other ways I should spend

this day.



The hourglass sifts between my

fingers

My body flipping like

a rottisierre chicken,

skin beading like

pearls on an evening gown.

The tide

waxes and wanes

To the pull of the moon

and the span of my sloth



As the sun turns to shade

I brush off my body