Alki Beach
BY LUTHER HUGHES
The bay of rocks before us, massaged by planks,
reaches for our hand in marriage. We lie on the ill-blue
blanket bought at the peak-end of the world
and the waves paparazzi. Families freckle, opening
umbrellas, ice chests, letting children loose
into the salt-flecked air. I know words aren’t enough
to breach, my love; the seagulls have begun to siren
their desires. Each will get theirs and Puget Sound
will hum until dusk dances across the boardwalk.
I once said I didn’t want to be married. I was young.
I wore the clothes I was given. The years have swallowed
me since, but, here, the estuary takes center stage,
and the sun, with swagger, straddles our backs with ease.
As I watch you sail into sleep, stomach oiled
with hard seltzers, cubed cheeses, crackers, music
glitters behind us. I have never been this warm.
