Poetry by Gregg Galgo | March 30, 2008

For Samal Island

The beach was a naked beauty
until brusque men from afar
heard of her and came:
one, two, all came,
deflowered her pristine waters –
she a frail captive of
the artichoke of their wanderlust.
A haven turned into a harem,
they forced her,
a virgin handmaid, to dance
the song of the wind.

And more men came
to watch her naked dance:
entrance fee (a dollar or two, you can
come and go);
table charge (a dollar or three and
your drink is free );
overnight stay (you can
take her, but always for a fee).

The waves agree with finality:
either she pauses the dance,
or feign joy at the applause.
It is always in the brief
moments of her grief
when she would surrender this way
again, to the madness of summer.