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Alice
Folkart
Holy
Sea
Is there a Fourth-of-July Church of God in Christ?
Maybe here, in Paradise, on this hot sand
by the warm green sea, presided over by wise old turtles,
deaconed by darting yellow and black striped Moorish Idols (converted).
At dawn today, on Kaimala beach, near Waikiki,
two dozen respectful humans in polo shirts and baseball caps,
dark, dark sunglasses, carrying umbrellas, bags and bundles, towels,
followed a fat blond man in tan shorts, white tee and red golf visor
belly-button deep into the opalescent waters of life
flashing photos of each other,
as, one by one, he held their noses closed
and, fully clothed, rocked them backwards in a graceful tango move,
immersing them in the tender little waves,
showing off for the needle fish.
He smiled big for the cameras.
The baby Christians came up sputtering into their new lives.
Fish scattered this way and that.
The white pigeons were more interested in bites from my spam musubi.
They like the rice.
round IV, poem
29, 4 Jul 2005
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| Alice
Folkart lives in Los Angeles,
California. Her short story, The Lie
appears in
the March 2005 issue of Long Story
Short. email: Alice Folkart |
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