Sundays, my wife and I stroll barefoot along a shoreline strewn with sharp glass as we listen to Adele’s “Hello.” Waves kiss this wrack aglitter, green, brown and clear. A carpet of gems, resembling stars as they refract sunlight and lovely enough to cut our feet. Water stings our soles as it foams around our ankles. It’s not walking on glowing coals, where the embers’ thermal conductivity is low and the contact time is short. More like beachcombing, scanning the cove for what’s lost at sea, hoping it might wash up. At least we’re together, my wife and I, thinking of everyone we wish were here amid fresh air and surf. “Hello from the other side,” Adele sings. What else would waves try to hide? I rhyme in response. Through blood and glass, I wanna cry. Hello to the other side. Sky’s burnt orange, sea burnished bronze. My sister-in-law died on a Sunday morning.
Bio: Jonathan Yungkans
