One needs sand from the sea, we have known for some time, the white sand, he said (she likes colors quickly soiled); mother said: golden. To sling in the left leg, to have, we say empirically, a wild hip; father maintains the hereditary factor is sacrosanct in a world that he thinks father thinks of the purity of women greased cranes that carry merchandise in their balance, he had not become a sailor because of his eyesight. Angela knows the white color that becomes soiled the stench of anesthetic the raspberry in the mouth the uniforms of the White Whales for straightening the aching leg the illustrious physician who speaks of the sea as of castor oil: Angela would like that -- shovel odor rubber roaches purple things damp and slippery -- they please not create confusion. Used by permission of Story Line Press. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OPPOSITES by KATHERINE MANSFIELD TWILIGHT COMES by HAYDEN CARRUTH OFFERING by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON |