Stick Girl

Will de Kypia

She bears no burden but

the warmth of the sun.

Feels no pressure except

the wind on her face.

Her only tie is the leash to her

board and it's got a quick release.

She's had several fine sets,

some most excellent rides.

This is her last.

Last set, last ride,

it’s all good.

~

No gun girl hunting crunchers

not even Slater could tame, she's

a funboarder content with what the

gods of the sea have provided today.

Just one more grown-up grom who's

become a mom but in this ocean—

in any ocean—she's still sixteen.

So she pops up and trims the face

steady on her stick, calm in the power

of a salt pond half-the-earth huge.

When she bends the horizon obeys,

tipping the way she tells it to go.

Her wave is perfect, the wind's offshore,

she could not ask for anything more.

Stick girl knows who she is, likes

it too, she will never kick out.

There is no beach she's heading for,

no boy she is thinking about.

There is nothing under that setting sun

but a girl and a stick and a wave.

~