RSS Feed

To the Woman Who Sits on the Beach Every Day at Two and Drinks Beer

Posted on


The old woman’s hands
brown and spotted
like the sugared crackling on a ham
split and peel off in little flakes
like roofing shingles sliding into the emptiness
a noise unto themselves
like the gentle shushing of the sky to the leaves

dried and dead in the curb corner
along with roadside-grilled worm carcasses.
The lowly, sun-worshipping creature
fried and flattened
neatly dried into a crisp, brittle coil
under my feet.

The old woman’s hands
(SPF protection-less)
bake Rotisserie-style
as the Ant-God
my Gaud;
the great gaping cake-hole of civilization,
smiles from above.


Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: