Beach Posture
In North Carolina
Beach Posture
“Salt water leaps like fried diamonds” —Emily Carr
In the great blue fryer this morning I was dazzled watching chinny pelicans pass for their morning meal, toppled top-heavy from my board, turtled subsurface, held diamonds in my teeth but my teeth leaked like baleen, could have filtered krill and never felt too full. That is to say I’ve put on layers here, added insulation in the wrong places for this heat. And when the beautiful surfers bend over their boards like lovers their bellies barely crinkle, and you know they’re hard as sharks beneath. A pack of sand-powdered lifeguards thundering by— I want to swallow them, too, in the deep fried land these tan people who sift their vowels through their sun-bleached teeth. Lord, mother, let me eat!
In North Carolina
In the dusk, distant mountains of smoke-blue clouds float past. Unfamiliar suburban birds form Googie parabolas. A far-off jet wanders west, leaves behind a tangerine vapor trail… My lime wedge sweats. My ice resettles itself.
ANDY KEYS is a writer from North Idaho. He is an MFA candidate at the University of North Carolina Wilmington, where he teaches introductory classes in poetry and creative writing. He was a finalist for Great River Review‘s Pink Poetry Prize, and his poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in The Shore, The Rappahannock Review, and Thin Air Magazine. Online @_andykeys