For Emma




your errant breasts

unmanageable and impossibly new

fighting last year’s costume

in the surf


your bounty

fuels your nervousness

puts your father in a spin

rouses every male on the beach


such imaginings




dance in the bubbles dancing

at your feet

squeeze the salt and sand

between your toes

let yourself be tossed

by the surf


the slow flap of the

red and yellow flag

in the haze

the world reduced

to slices of colour and

the great sigh of surf


don’t fear the blue bottles

or the threatening storm



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