Tristan & Isolde
Published in Jacket
Some kids buried us in sand, up to our necks.
We passed a beer back and forth. The sky was rose.
I felt an itch on my nose and a crack
in his armor. From the jellyfish shoals
I heard an air horn. Another heavenly day.
The breeze picked-up and tipped our parasol
toward the cabana, leaving sun in his eyes.
You hear something? he asked. No, I replied.
When the ship signaled again, he squinted
and asked, I cant see are the sails white
or are the sails black? I finished the beer
and stuck the lime rind in his pretty mouth.
Black, dear, now go to sleep. I rang the bell
and waited for a refill. One more blissful day.