By Zoé Boucquillon
it was the beach where people came to die
Or rather where i saw them
My grandma losing friends
Mine getting old
And my parents – older
every summer when august was sweating enough to squirt its water on all
We would lay down
Our bodies hot with –
noise
TELL IT LIKE IT IS
What do you know?
Is that him?
Is that her daughter?
It was the beach where people came to get old
All faces where time digs into the jaws
Excavating old age – jellyfish and small crabs
reading until it is safe to go outside
Dancing under the water and moon and swirling in the wind
Cheekbones fattening and dripping a little
Crushed lavender under the eyes like sad crescents
The stars rusty with senility and a sprinkle of tears
fuck where is everyone?
Who is time?
Why has she robbed me of everything?
TELL IT LIKE IT IS
Small feet on little pebble
The lumps on your chest
Later becoming a merry-go-round of insecurities
Sexual sexuality sex and sexual sexuality sex
Appropriating your face
And that hole between your legs
Back then your sister hadn’t been hurt
Your dad still had hair
Your mum wasn’t lonely
Your brothers lived in your house too
And your great-aunt lived
On the beach at night alone
The masts lined up for their funeral
boat hulls like cadavers slowly dying too – just like us
I stay silent – a little aware of me
How could I seek the empty world again?
Waves and waves and you were so tiny
Remember your short hair
The one-piece swimsuit – pink with a yellow hippo
The castles swept in sand
TELL IT LIKE IT IS
Drinking anguish to drown out the noise
You remember – trapped a little
A big gap between who you were
Where is she?
What is she doing?
Please come and save me
Please come and get me
i’m cold
Take me home please
Come now, bring me to the beach
Let us take the sun – allow her to judge us
To the point of redness
We can swim too and forget it all
Open water
Drown it all – the noise
The noise
always
