21 June 2019

Postcard 172

We washed up upon the day
a soft cascade of pearls
We lap the shore, the sand,
the grains. A gentle cream
         that curls that curls that curls

Clustered toes paw at buttered dawn,
crack sun-browned crust of still
waves drawn - languid reaching
fingers beyond dune-fine arms

Eyes stretch milky wet with dawn
Long held breaths recede like
breaking fog. Winking lashes
comb pleasant grit -- salt drawn

Upon each young day we rise
we crest, we ceaseless beat
On equal play with budding sun
we shake up on lithe feet

We stretch toward ripening sun
-- its peeling waves of light
Soft and bowing doe-like bones
warmth stiffen tooth-strong and white

Yawn like an open bowl
tart cream, tart berry, tart tongue
A new alabaster lump
yielding. shaped. carved. dropped. undone

You wash up -- an idol
master cut by patient waves
Each day a pearl is softly
mother-wrought a layer more
            and all is sand softened to soft sand

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