Haad Tien

I left her there; on the beach
in the wet sand—
the real me, happy and free.
 
I couldn’t bring her home,
the real me.
 
She lives in her body with ease:
lean and free.
She’s the golden colour of peanuts,
skin salted by the sea, buffed with the grains,
hair tangled by gusts—
weather wild as she, feral and free.
 
Bare feet on storm whipped sand,
rocks scoured black with rain,
slicked over, tested by her foot—
strong toes curl, grip; she jumps
clean to the next beach.
 
She loiters briefly at Phi’s,
the first welcome, the first stop off rocks and earth,
out of trees and into light, back to sand.
On to Bpu’s welcome; Khun Yaai cooking omelette.
She walks back by dark, only moonlight
and her lover’s arms to guide her.
 
Wind swirls, ocean beats grainy shore
and the new jetty—gone,
and with it all fear of departure.
 
She lies in his arms
and the wind blows through.
The storm stirs the ocean to foam and five foot swells
and the spray joins the rain and sea
and keeps her there, keeps her from me.
 
I couldn’t bring her home,
the real me.
 
I could only leave her there,
living wild by jungle and sea—
the real me, happy and free.

 
About

 
© Ammie-oy 2010
 

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