A man once gave me a hermit crab
The pink to his mid-life blue
He says
Are you collecting things?
Watches my nod, compliments my sun
Glasses, but doesn't see
My heart's overhead light strobing.
Does not ask of the 53 holes i bear and hopes he sees
Half a hundred near-ecstacy
experiences I can't forget to remember.
The white man, I wanted to tell him
Secrets
I had kept for only myself this last, long voyage
I felt the ache
Oh, the ache
Looked back to the adults who trusted me, or wanted to, at least
Asleep, drowning
I wanted to throw the shades in the water's dirty shore
Ask him his name,
Tell him the impression she practices in the cracked threefold mirror
Evangeline, but you can call me Eve.
A sultry, slithering smile.
New stolen glance
I am my own security system with faulty wiring
But I sensed the eye of authority and my sensor was right this time.
Sister staring, incognito eyes behind black tint
Ache numbing, I ran
No bad intentions, wholesome interactions
Named my gift Mr. Krabbs.
Did he know the tale I was arguing
To the voices in my head about,
Cover bouncing with white letters giving me away.
How long had he watched me yell at the air at
Ghosts only I see?
Did he think I was crazy? Did he think I could be
Sicker than his worst intention
Or his grandmother in '93?
Cast his third eye, not in its usual place
Upon the girl by herself, too enthralled
Too psychotic
Too meditative to be anything but
Vulnerable.
When the ache seeked him out
A caucasian as cookie-cutter as
Gingerbread with no butter
Among a sea of others
Identical to the only darkskin on the island
Sunburnt white men with
The same Bass Pro sun
Glasses, but I could not see the one who gave me an inkling of
Unnatural attention.
Gone;
Coast to coast
Guaranteed to never be complimented by him again.
I padlocked eyes with a white man
A new one, or maybe him.
I couldn't tell the difference of their
Miller Light bellies
Gillette, scruffy beards
Bass Pro blue-green polarized shades
They are the same hands who took and
Never asked,
Never really let me say yes
Always "no."
They have no differentiation
Only than the color of their wife's wet hair.
YOU ARE READING
what Beth told me ~ a collection
Poetrya collection of delicate poetry all concieved on the golden shoreline of bethany beach, delaware over the summer of 2022. though slightly nonsensical, I hope you can retrieve something from the waters like I did. sincerely, lemyn victoria
