Steamers
The water lulls, soft, warm,
salt-sweet like dew on bronze skin.
In chains the boat at anchor rocks,
cradled in a summer sea.
Water accepts us, frail, human,
each rise of sultry sand beneath the waves
a blossom of delight. Suited to an
au natural moment; we wade.
Barely receiving permission to be
bare, our legs and arms wave and waver
beneath and through a languid sea.
Ten toes curl and prod seeking dinner.
The water in its abundance yields,
each mollusk's breath rises a stream of
silver bubbles exhaled marking their bed
leading the diners to their dinner fare.
First Publication at Eskimo Pie Summer 2013
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