In Marin

After I returned, after the six weeks I terrorized
the Beach, with my tongue rampaging, blunting the shore’s edges,
the sky was as it may be now, and I was no brighter,
though my scars were all hidden in my hooded heart, buried
between the bones where the heart pools, skips its beat, syncopated.
Still I knew a happiness: no scabbed blood, no scarred, bruised skin
as I dropped to my knees in the doorway to kiss her cunt
whereupon she smiled to see us there, at the beginning

(20 December 2012)

copyright 2012 by Floyce Alexander