PANTING FOR COLD BLUE




On the drive from suburbs
to Atlantic shore,  age eight,
she couldn’t wait to throw herself
 into the bracing blue, impatience
for ocean sting more intense
 than her desire for lime soda
 straight from green bottles.
 
 First glimpse of blue through fields
made her long for cold.
 In the car’s backseat
 she panted for Blue,
for salty foam, towering waves
and Cold itself all over her skin
she needed more than anything,
voluptuous relief.
 
Her feet on wet sand
raced into cobalt blue,
 body wide awake,
 fearless blond seahorse
  on a summer rendez-vous
  with sensation.

 



Claudia Lapp