Pretty Little

The beach is hot yet grey, 
under a forecast of tantalizing pressure.
		The wind pushes the waves 
		hard enough to  c  r  a  c k. 

I wonder what happens 
when the rain meets the sand. 
Would you let me dissolve in your palm
and carry me to your lips like water? 

		Do you sense it too?
		Feel the pressure rising 
			with a suffocating heat. 

An evening sky full of electricity, 
so wet and dense
		to reach out and touch 
		would make it real- 
			This cyclical dynamic. 

You and I
Me and you
	Waiting for the sky’s 
plummeting release.

You won’t touch me
like a line of wet sand on the shore. 
Once you give into it,
it clings to you
and takes forever to dry. 

* included in my chapbook titled The End

* * selected by the DePaul English Department to be discussed at the DePaul English Department’s Spring Confrence on a panel regarding poetry