“The Beach,” Tegwyn Annick

by MP

     Cut gray hair enclosed the sky while cut white hair mixed with the ocean. Clumps of sand stuck to my wet black boots. Some grains took refuge under and on my laces, most however called to me in a scratchy polite panic from my soles. I bent down to wipe the sand off. My pants; wet from the ocean water, caused the skin on the back of my legs to itch. I imagined once I arrived home and removed my soaked clothes I would find moulds and mushrooms growing on my body. The dampness, heat, and darkness offered perfect real estate for those lives. Brushing the sand from my boots felt harsh against my skin; like a cat’s playful bite. The small microscopic rocks fixed to my hands, so I stepped forward toward the ocean to rinse the sand off; cautiously, in order to keep more particles from rising above my soles. Once I reached the edge I stretched my arms out and allowed the ancient waters to remove my earthly warts while small dying waves leaked through the stitches of my coffin shoes and filled a well of flesh and fabric.

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