On the first day    at the beach
I walk east
into a howling
Holding my black hat on my
Then I go back

On the second day
it rains
I work on my

On the third day
it’s calm
I walk east again
Flies diving in under my black
Trying to get under my sunglasses
Feet — only — in the sea
Hem of my black skirt getting
Black shirt a ride for
I walk east as far as
and I think
What if I just kept walking? How far
would I
Without my purse? Without water?
I left my purse in the
with my children
And the thought of if I
just didn’t
It is a thinkable
but not something I would
So I go back
and on the way I forget half
the words I

But what’s the point of living if you
somehow even if only
touching through wires

(First published in Creatrix)

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