sandscaping

by Azalea Aguilar

mom brings buckets
saltwater never seems to tire
one pink pail after another
trip number ten

seven of us small
rubs sand from shoulders
in the setting sun
tracing hairlines where it castles

rinses tiny feet last
sliding fingers between toes
tucking towels for the drive
dad washes con la manguera

spraying for sport
we scream in unison
shield our eyes
sand cascading down

sun kissed bodies
paletas melting over salty arms
swimsuits swung over chainlink
we shower in pairs

sand blankets linoleum
clumps around the drain
we search for sand
hide curve of ears

giggle ourselves to sleep
careful not to wake grown folk
just before our eyes close
someone whispers

I still feel the waves
lapping against body
hear them sing too
ear pressed to a sea shell

---

(Azalea Aguilar bio>