When V-V put out a call for summer poems I entered the word "summer" into my search engine and found this discarded, nostalgic 60's poem in a forgotten file. If this was the 60's, it would have been lost forever in a notebook stashed in the back of a closet from a house I passed through on my way to a life I never imagined. Please visit me at http://doriannelaux.net
That was the summer we tore the days
in half: blue sky, black sand, gulls
salvaging buds of meat from knifed open
clams, their pearly oblong wings
unhinged, littering the beach.
The shoreline was a braid
of tumbling froth trawling over
our bare feet, leaving
its anklet of kelp. We bent down
in the dusk, flinging it off.
It was the summer of fire rings,
driftwood dragged into a circle,
our faces appearing when the heart of the wood
sizzled and burst, dusting our shoulders
with sparks, our bodies receding
into the darkness, our voices
Summer of grunion, seawater
sloshing in tin buckets, sugary
marshmallows blackening on a stick,
summer night washing up on the rocks, the smell
of a rotting seal far off, embalmed in salt.
It was the year we crawled
inside each others sleeping bags,
our hands delicate
beneath each others damp clothes.
No one could be sure who the other was
until morning, first light
on our sleeping faces, waking
from a dream into a dream where we
could see the days inside the days,
feel the kisses inside the kiss.
2016 Dorianne Laux
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