Email Poem

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Poem

The postcard he would never send

found its way into the child’s sand pail 

after he had carefully selected it 

from a rack in the souvenir shop

cautiously carrying it tucked inside 

the folds of his red, white and 

blue striped towel to the seaside.

Then he penned the words: 

Wish you were here… 

on its field of white,

scratching  a black “x”  

where her body might lie

alongside his body  

in the perfectly coiffed sand—

in the picturesque seascape

on the face of the charming, 

little card...when  a hot wind,  

filled with love’s urgency,  came 

over  the water ( it would not wait)

and up onto the beach 

as if  to herald his message to her.

The postcard lifted up like a kite

swirled past a sour, snoring 

centenarian,   beyond a  father 

and son—  oyster rakes in hand 

despite the spelling of the month--

then alighted in the lovely  lap 

of  a small ginger-haired girl who

looked curiously up after squinting 

hard  at the card and at its letters... 

sounding out the “www” and “ssshhh”.  

She pressed the invitation to her lips 

and would forever search for  its sender.

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