MASS ON THE BEACH
I’m trying not to wonder if the priest
applied sunscreen to read this sermon
about who knows what going on and
on in the sticky heat. Nana’s shawl falls
from her shoulders. As usual my thoughts
unruly as seagulls and just as hungry for
what isn’t mine—I envy devotion,
the foreplay of some higher unknowing,
the promise of looking into a bible
to find that feeling—I watch the beautiful
women bouncing around in bikinis.
In the distance, jumping cheers
from a volleyball tournament, the kite
a kid can’t get the wind to catch.
