Beach House
KEVIN SALVAGGIO
I. Beach
You there on the back
of her wave, staying still
and moving with the wet
things. You there under
going a life sentence
of burning
paying for your years
of silence and passiveness,
lying on back after back
swaying to Bach's compositions
riding his notes up and down
gathering seashells in the spaces
thinking those life guards
are still watching you steal
from others. You: Still
water and still stalling
in the groove of quartz.
and you: a
sleeping
mass in minor Beach.
II. House
Day puts on one of his
bedspreads, covers his sleepiness
with a covering of beach ball sun
sewed onto all transparent blues
in existence. I look up
from washing my apple
to see him shuffle past
his four-poster counting
the air particles in the room
separating the bad germs from
the good ones tucked
in closets
building up resistance to another
too-bright iteration of the longest
month. And just when Night finds
the time to unwrap his dark
mattress from its light facade,
I realize I never made my bed.
Kevin Salvaggio currently resides on Long Island, NY where he spends most of his free time (outside of waitering and temp jobs) writing obsessively in attempts at finding his true poetic voice. He is a graduate of the Sarah Lawrence MFA program, and co-author of Hurricane Butterfly.