Sandbar, Person Lake
We spent a day in sand between the bottom and the
Further shore, dragging tanned feet, swaying in the
Sigh of the waves. Listen up the yard where the men
Throw horseshoes. Hear their determined faces. We
Are backward swimming bugs underneath an easy
dock borrowing each other's kisses. Sandbar, the sun
Sets wide. The earth wobbles. Eventually fireflies.
Our sorrow grows in groups. We’re best between smudged pages,
Four leaf clovers pressed into sentences, placeholders of recycled
Pulp, fortunes, black and white polaroids with dates on our edges.
We’re best on soft, cushioned chairs, heads back, eyes advancing,
Our eager, adventurous legs thrown over arms.