The Wednesday Poem

Still only islands

We are like islands in the sea, separate on the surface but connected in the deep.

—William James

I watch two women in burqas and hijabs
explore the edge of the water.
The day is warm, still summer, beach crowded.
Incoming waves scuttle over sand
and the women run, squealing,
lifting their hems a little, to stay dry.

Like goats’ milk on lips and tongue,
the touch of cool water on feet and legs
is irresistible
and inch by inch, hem by hem
they advance into the water.
Like children in a paddling pool
they splash and laugh,
faces alive with the simple joy of it.

Beyond, in deeper water,
wearing Speedos,
husband and brothers cavort and dive,
submerge like seals beneath the surface,
pure sea engulfing bare flesh,
and emerge again, wet skin shimmering,
salt drops flicked from dark hair.

Garments now sodden,
the women wade back to shore
where they stand, weighed down
by clothing made heavy
with water.

Kay Cairns

Kay Cairns is an Irish born poet with a BA in English, French and Russian literature. She won the Tom Collins Poetry Prize in 2004 and her work has been published in Quadrant and in several Australian poetry anthologies. Her poetry draws on strong emotional relationships with people and places.