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

118 readinG ted huGhes On the beach, last day in spain 1. The dark ate at you. And the fear / Of being crushed. Sky a blue sail all the way around the cove. When I sit up, arms and calves stuccoed with sand, I squint south and see, distinct miles away, the white houses of the pueblo. 2. A fistula of smouldering bitumen. / Hellish. Volcanic mountains edge the beach, prickly but benign. Sunday afternoon. I watch a yellow flag flirting toward sea just calm enough for play, rough enough for mischief. 3. Your undertow withdrawal / Blinded and choked you. Drowsy with lunch and wine, I rise, stumble into surf, hold my own then dive for cool, clear brilliance, swim out, spin and float, toes curled in Mediterranean air. 4. Our lives were still a raid on our own good luck. Reclined again and dripping, I look up from the damp text to admire four women, darkly tanned, in black bikinis, teething the fullest, most dazzling peaches I have ever seen. ...

Share