Kahala Beach Poem by Kirby Wright

I am alone
On a thin beach
At Christmas.

The mood is summer,
The shallows
The temperature of blood.

Bodies glisten at distances,
Me on a strip of sand
Watching flesh tan

On alternate strips.
Tourists struggle
Over the rocky coast—

They dip and jerk
Like marionettes
In a school play.

The sea smells
Of weeds and salt.
Naupaka bushes

Green in the sun.
The sand moves as I move,
Shifts to accommodate.

I feel beached,
Marooned in mid-life
With Coppertone bottle,

Wet trunks and cotton towel.
Breakers pound
The wall at Black Point.

Mansions are jaded
By repeat performances.
The lava glitters with rooms.