poems

Everything Under the Sun

Resentment

puckers the sand-specked lips
of the beach.


It’s tucked crossly into the top of that towel
the teenager doesn’t want to wear
in the café while eating.


Her new bikini.


It scores a sullen tally
across the face of the middle-aged dad
Withholding an ice-cream
high in the sky.

His puzzled son squints upwards and tries not to cry.


I clutch your hand tightly
in wonder
and wonder

What it must be like
to like one’s parents.