Day Three Hundred and Thirteen.


Izzy circle


down by the rocks,
phosphorescence glowing at night
twirling and cajoling the shore
drawing it into the depths
all sparkling green eyes
and hushed whispers

down by the rocks,
they used to dive for abalone
rangers turned a blind eye
the sea, she didn’t mind it
got pulled up because the law
got sent down because the letter

down by the rocks,
you triumphant in leather sandals,
linen dress grey bun flyaway,
tearaway you, crisp and brown
and salt sea spray with a fishing reel
dare the rocks to move beneath you.


Sarah circle


The big kids turn green marble eyes in their red-lined sockets and stare
Marcy sticks her thumbs into her belt loops and grinds her heel into the dirt
holds up all six years and eight inches of herself, siphons her sinuses
into a giant booger, spits it at their feet, glares through cowlike eyelashes and sneers
they can’t decide whether to laugh or swear so they do both, heads bobbling
sides shaking with mirth, doffing respectful invisible hats as they pass



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