On a Pristine Beach
They’re sipping happiness from tins on this clean beach. And the sizzle of barbecue mixes with high-belly laughs. A nest of their rubbish glints like human crustacea on the gathering histories of sea creatures.
She watches two of them judo the way nude bears might hug, smell each other’s fear. Meanwhile, others wander off to face some rock-wall or tree-bark, and piss. To her, their beery urine seems derogatory.
The two women in their group step tall, gallant feet and bare breasts. Their buttocks represent brown symmetry, firmly round.
An acute sun tickles wave tips in a broad triangle, almost touching the beach. The heat fizzles. The left-over sausages grow cold.
She wraps arms around the space left by her own breast. She’d had it sliced away leaving a scar.
She silently urges them to pick up the beer cans. The sun keeps setting.
Written for dVerse prosery "slices and scars" hosted by Sarah. We had to include the line "She'd had it sliced away leaving a scar." from Michael Donaghy's poem called "Liverpool"