appealing

The Maynard
Spring 2014

Melissa Sawatsky
0:00
 
 

The Ford Takes Us to Wreck Beach

Sand and soil wedged in the seats, floor sticky
with spilt juice, wet grass, petals.
Our bumper sticker: One nuclear bomb
can ruin your whole day.

My mother’s beads, feathers,
flowered skirt—a fall of fabric
I reach for, hang onto
when her body strays.

The blanket of her
long, thick hair as she bathes,
the bathroom door open, always.

Down-sloping Douglas-firs slide into
bare-naked bodies that offer new shapes,
sprouts of hair, shades of skin.

My sister and I watch the leather droop
of breasts. Fleshy bells clang
between the legs of middle-aged men.

Under nylon, my torso is flat. A hint of
nipples, areola, and that part where
my hand goes into the shallows, fingering
for the deep end.