Underwater your eyes collapse
and your feet touch decayed leaves
and soft sand at the lake's bottom,
the texture of tenderized flesh,
maybe an intestine
You spring to the surface to
find your skull met by
waterflies, and their limbs
tweak your peace
On the shore your feet
touch a granular soil,
mosquitoes swarm, twigs
cut toes and this time
bones meet stone
At the entrance to the
wooded path, you greet
the pavement, only to find
another sand and specks of
glass, shattered by the
town's teenagers on their
way back from the night,
one of the first nights their
innocence left them
Yours was gone long ago, as
you stand with feet bloodied
and a burned-out street
lamp above you
I like this very much. There is so much texture to it--one of the most difficult of the senses to display. Nicely done.
I do like this - it has an almost mystical melancholy to it. Yet very physical. Could you tell me about the title?
Thanks, Susan! Thanks, Claire!
Hi Claire - the title has to do with the physical itches, like from the mosquitoes, waterflies and twigs, but then the remembering of earlier summers as a kid, as a teenager, is an itch, too.
I liked this poem. The tone and structure was nice.
The ending was perfect for this.
Faved it.
Thanks again, Gloria!
I'm feeling everything in this poem with my body. Well done.
Too bad summer is fading fast, this is a great poem to enjoy at the beach or the lake.
Thanks, Roberto!