POEM: Sometimes you still see Marilyn Monroe at the beach
Published: March 6, 2009Section: Arts, Etc.
Marilyn, at the border of sun and sand
a
spits in the wind, unfurls her wig,
the sting of salt still on her breath
as she kneels – so poised – her cane in hand.
It’s a blue day today – and tomorrow – and on
for as long as the waves eat up the shore –
as long as the pause from line to line –
as short as the span from eye to eye.
Somewhere still between her ears –
her robot brain, her phantom jaw –
remains a world of stiff repose
where we tread lightly – a sheer plateau.
For fear of falling out of bed
we write verse in sand instead.
Marilyn, at the border of sun and sand
a
spits in the wind, unfurls her wig,
the sting of salt still on her breath
as she kneels – so poised – her cane in hand.
It’s a blue day today – and tomorrow – and on
for as long as the waves eat up the shore –
as long as the pause from line to line –
as short as the span from eye to eye.
Somewhere still between her ears –
her robot brain, her phantom jaw –
remains a world of stiff repose
where we tread lightly – a sheer plateau.
For fear of falling out of bed
we write verse in sand instead.
