You were the only one I kissed on that beach
Your warm hands in my hair and on my skin
Side by side in love and purpose
Reveling in our innocence
Later, I lived on that beach
And had water access via wooden stairs
The tide had washed away any trace
But the memory still lingers
Sometimes a poem is in my mind
as a whole
a brain cloud of completeness
that rains on the page
Other times
there are scattered showers
and the words and phrases come out in snippets
sometimes these bits can water the idea sufficiently
so a full-grown poem can form
sometimes they die in the ground for lack of water
or effort
When she was about seven or eight
she was playing in the woods
when she came upon a neighbor's older brother
he had his pants down
and he grabbed her
she wriggled away
but was filled with shame over the event
When she was ten
her mother was recovering from a routine hysterectomy
she had developed a blood clot
so the family arrived at the hospital
but they left her and her twin sister in a waiting room
as they went in and said their goodbyes
When their mother had breathed her last
her father and siblings streamed passed the waiting room
crying and dabbing their eyes
leaving them behind
until they ran to catch up with them
In his grief and misguided attempt to shield them
their father put them on the bus for day camp
she they cried on the way there
and a girl on the bus said,
"I hope they are not going to cry all day."
Once they arrived
she hid in the woods
until it was time to go home
I can still feel
your taut warm skin
on my hands
my arms
my breasts
we lived in a world that
embraced our nakedness
So you climbed into the back seat of the car
to be close to me
to recline on my chest
and to turn your eyes toward a shared interest
But then they came
to break up our love
and shame you for a less-than-spotless past
I knew the ending of the tragedy
yet took your nephew to play on the swings
and the alarm stole me away
