Medicinal Beach

There is no hope
for black licorice
turned into swizzle sticks
to stir up old radio songs
with crushed ice
replacing screaming teenage girls
held back by the thin blue line
of the occasional blip
on a seismograph
that cannot account for hours
of waves depositing
a hundred thousand
boxed Star Wars action figures
on a medicinal beach
where Dora likes to sit
reading Prospero’s books
under a staged confession
to setting the shoreline afire
so it would carbonize
into a coal-black stick.

copyright © 2019 Kenneth P. Gurney


Just me having fun with language. Enjoy the penultimate day of 2019.

Love & Light. Tree & Leaf.


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