Her limbs are as firm as math.
She wears three ironic triangles.
Her eyes repeat the sea.
A faint and faintly damp
blond down extends the aura
of her hair. Her lips
do not leave the yogurt cone
they kiss, but if they did,
would speak essences.
The lone, arrested wave
extrudes not foam but hands,
reaching and pointing.
Other beings on the beach,
nonviable in this medium,
are subliminal smoke.
Though the rotation of the planet
is stilled, two are not harmed
though one is ordinary.
Meanwhile the smile exists.
Till a phone rings that offers
the ever-immanent Other,
his imbricated bêtises,
charms, and money.
That sound was always there.
The being beside her
lets sand sift
through his hand, wishing time would return.
—
Fred Pollack is the author of two book-length narrative poems, THE ADVENTURE and HAPPINESS, both published by Story Line Press. His collection of shorter poems, A POVERTY OF WORDS, is forthcoming in 2015 from Prolific Press. His work has appeared in Hudson Review, Salmagundi, Poetry Salzburg Review, Die Gazette (Munich), The Fish Anthology (Ireland), Representations, Magma (UK), Iota (UK), Bateau, Main Street Rag, Fulcrum, etc. Online poems have appeared in Big Bridge, Hamilton Stone Review, Diagram, BlazeVox, The New Hampshire Review, Mudlark, Occupoetry, Faircloth Review, Triggerfish, etc. He is an adjunct professor of creative writing at George Washington University.