Girls Daring tides, Netarts, OR

The water runs from my beauty but always glides back.

Far out the waves start, a green rose, pale belly stretched,

Orchid-split to sand curls, low down, mouthing foam.

My friends are beautiful too, as we stoop to grab rocks.

This one with a sign thrown from a boat: send nudes!

Our jeans rolled, our shape what makes the sailors moan.

Yeah, I know all about the mala gaze but that term short sighted

dude, for all gaze on me: moms, moons, oysters gulls

drop open at my lovely. The truth is hard sand

that crumbles at a touch. I am wind power, no one

see me coming but here I am, arms spread in my wind-breaker.

Nothing breaks me. A table of times runs over my bare feet.

Take that woman. You with the eyes on me and bestie,

writing my beauty roll over and back. I’ll be like god,

after the flood, asking what good will come of it. And out of the sea, I come.

Girls Daring tides, Netart, OR