In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

62 low Tide on the sunset Coast Cocktails when the sky turns From ornery to ornament, that hour when Seabirds swim against the sun and the clouds keep Every color the air can take, citron going to gold, gold Gone to coral and mauve and aquamarine, Alcoholic Floridas of the ripened eye— And she wants to feel herself Inside the long swoon of a negligee That clings like sweat, that pours down The swollen slopes of desire, A glycerin kiss of silk Before it’s lifted like a tide Peeled back from the beach, the sand Darker now in the damp shadows of evening— And through the glass slats and screens On the dim verandah, she sees A rind of light along the shoreline And stars like a broken bracelet of white shells. Mangrove and palm and pine, and vines around them Like veins on a brawny arm—why would she need A stiff-necked rose or any colder bloom? In the swampwood Keys of wicker and stucco, At the end of rutroads that drown Each night in the moonburnt sea, she gives herself To the salt and sultry lusters of the Gulf. ...

Share