Poseidon Punched Me



It could have been a smack

from an irate stranger,

or the arrow farewell

of a vanishing ghost lover,

but no.


Poseidon punched me.


Neptune almost knocked out

an aging baby boomer

body surfer who couldn’t resist

showing off for her son.


I had to go bowling into shore

catching wave after wave

like a nearly beached dolphin.


Poseidon punched me.


Poseidon got sick of costumes

and condos and pretty people

who read Us,

Actors and addicts and wannabe athletes.


Poseidon punched me,

his trident firmly planted

in the sand,

He balled his fist and socked me

right in the forehead.


Now I bear the mark

of a great heart cockle,

a grating abrasion from the sand,

a strawberry seal instead of a kiss.


How does one defeat a god?

Throw darts at posters of the little mermaid?

Boycott Starkist tuna?

Shoot the planet instead of the moon?


Maybe I should go back to Colorado

with my hat intact.

Leave the swimming to the fish.

Take off my “surf or die” T shirt

and don’t let the sun catch me crying.


~ by dianeklammer on August 26, 2013.

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