by Laurie Barton
In the ad for your Surf School
your hair flows long
as your strong legs lunge, in hula
In person, you're wearing a grandma
bun, but still you appear
the most powerful being at Wailua Beach.
I'm only the mom
of a teen girl. She begged
for surfing lessons, so I pay
and chat with you:
Philemon's a name in the Bible!
Your dark eyes flash
as I think of New England pomade,
a rainstorm of language, dripped into hymns,
and you say, Philemon-- it don't mean a thing.
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