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East Hampton Beach
ekphrasis of East Hampton Beach by Winslow Homer
Paulette pulled her skirt away from her body as much as she dared, hoping to dry the rivulets of sweat between her legs and behind her knees, even the small of her back, and between her breasts. There was nowhere else to go but to sit with her cousins under the umbrellas that only gathered the heat and blocked the light. There would be no ocean breeze until much later in the evening, when proper ladies such as herself were safely inside after dinner, ready perhaps for a spirited game of gin or hearts. Paulette pulled her hat a bit lower and imagined herself peeling off the jacket and gown, loosening the petticoats until they too fell to the sand, one strap of her chemise surrendering to gravity off her shoulder. Then she would pull at one of the hair pins and let her heavy thick hair spill down her back. She would run, she imagined, straight into the water, deep enough for the water to draw a line across her chest. She would lift her hair off her neck and for a moment and then step further out, deeper into the cooling water. She would be as Venus, arising from the sea. A tinkling sound of laughter came to her from the girls under the umbrella, destroying the lovely release she’d created. She turned her face to the ocean and listened carefully to the waves that called someone else’s name.
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Copyright 2019 Marguerite Floyd all rights reserved
