A Poem: Impressions of Wellfleet

by Sara Handy

 

buried up to my neck in sand

giggles and seashells

Aunt Becky Eikenberry a name that laughed in bubbles and ran down

the beach

dog Bluebell, furry mass of wiggling fur jumping on my head, slapping

little ankles, licking blowing hair

red steaming lobster

oysters sliding down mother’s throat

raw snap beans fresh from the rolling garden

bending down, hiding in the bushes, sneaking down the row and

playing peek-a-boo through the bean plants with Uncle Henry,

chuckling, tan fisher face

Cape Light on the wooden houses, salty air eating away white paint

the pond, bath warm, sandy bottom, minnows darting around

wiggling toes so maddeningly quick

the ring of green around aqua, dig your toes in the snd, who

knows what’s underneath

impossibly steep staircases ascending forever into the forbidden

attic where the cat escaped and the grown-up men had to fetch

it for Aunt Becky. it was her precious

Uncle Henry, solemnly showing us city girls the clamming waters,

he sinks the tough foot into the mud, speaking pensively, and

with powerful magic lifts his toe with a clam sitting there, he

rinses it. Hands it to my mother, “ Fresh snack for you Alice”