I walk in fluff though it’s harder, more struggle
with its sinkings and evaporations, language of
acceptance and obliteration. Juxtaposed dunes and
waves create a geometry of expectations and
adjustments in my body, reveal my footprints temporary,
a moment of me the world holds before I’m walked away
by who follows, the continual salty wash of attrition.
Each wave deposits corpses—crabs, jellyfish, sponges,
mounds of clams—a dark spot briefly marks the grave.
quickly fades. Flood current washes the beach and tide
licks the fragile edges of sand art, vivisects a mermaid,
erodes foundations of the most intricate castles. Puddled
moats await their wave of reunification. I watch the horizon.
Mullets jump into filtered light, breaching dolphins
spout air, and I commit these images to memory to record
at home tonight on my lanai, noting in the margins
the fragrant night, the broken light of an ambulance
across the street contradicting the gardenias blooming
by the gate, a crust of salt on everything.
Connie Willett Everett has an MFA in creative writing, three chapbooks in print, poems in various publications, and a Pushcart nomination. She has taught writing, conducted workshops, and coordinated poetry readings and events throughout the community. Everett is publisher and managing editor of Pudding Magazine, a biannual poetry journal.
