Body Surfing | Taking Measure


Body Surfing

Arms tightly wrapped around her neck
my face pressed into her soaking black hair
her dark brown skin beaded, glittering in the light
warmed me in the cold surf
the faint scent of her lotion
mingled with salt water filled my nostrils
then the surge of water rearing us skyward
then thrusting us landward
riding on my mother’s back
north towards home
never this close again.


Taking Measure

Before I departed home
my mother revealed her belief
each time you sleep
with a different woman
a small part of you dies.
She never said
how many it would take
to achieve an ending
nor exactly how small
a small part is.
That was forty years ago.
How much time
do I have left?

Roger.CampRoger Camp lives in Seal Beach, CA, where he tends a flower garden, walks his beloved Paris yearly, is apprenticed to a master mason, naps in a hammock, plays blues piano evenings and kayak fishes. His work has appeared in The Atlanta Review, North American Review, Pank, and is forthcoming in The Tampa Review, and Hopkins Review.