Sunscreen Ceremony Poem by Margaret Alice

Sitting on the fourth floor balcony, laptop
balancing on my knees, reading old poems,
following dreams, listening to music playing
in the games area, watching kids playing putt-
putt against a background of blue sea

State of panic has been replaced with calm accep-
tance, missing the excitement of yesterday’s anger,
having become a calm bandit banished to the beach
every morning, watching the performance of the
other holiday-makers

Struggling all the way to the beach with grim determi-
nation in self-imposed exile to blue-bottles and oily sand,
a relentless sun beating down on us mercilessly, instead
of feeling unmitigated enjoyment, I worry that the sun
is frying the brains of all who sit around

Without hat and umbrella - grinning when I see an alter-ego
family, the woman wearing the same sandals as mine, the man
wearing the same hubby has on his feet, she’s sitting on the same
chair as mine, sighing in relief as the comparison ends; the
man applies sunscreen with religious devotion

To every part of his sacred body while the woman rubs her kids with
sunscreen as if partaking in a holy ceremony – I never bother much,
sunscreen’s for the face only, the rest of the body is left to face
the elements all by itself…