The Wednesday Poem

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I remember golf carts and squashed icecream sandwiches
a dark glittering pool covered with deer footprints.
Fishingnet hammocks, boat bathtubs, velvet curtain sunlight-
waking to shadowed stairs, maybe a fall
showers outside, dead crabs.

I remember muddy afternoons, cold tea, boats,
a pair of waterskis that caused splinters.
The poptop, with holes for errant toes and fingers,
a waterlogged blue T-Bird.

I remember losing races in brittle summergrass,
sponging spicy crabmeat from our afterdinner mouths.
Honeysuckle cocktails and pleading for a ride
in the back of the Oldsmobile-
the freedom in our swinging legs.

I remember treasure hunts on paper in longgrasses
glassy rocks staring, our walks into town.
Bonecrushers and running naked
old ducks buoyed- floating plastic smiles.

I remember us, sharing bikini’d falls from the boat trailer,
bossiness and icecream fingers,
sitting oldestprotector at the head of the stairs,
our unfermented sisterhood.

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