Page Sutton Dauphin Island

Page Sutton

Dauphin Island

The feeling I felt upon seeing you for the first time: it was like your waves embraced me, as if your foam enticed me, and your salt did encrust me. I was motionless and breathless and you were sweating and eager and you threw yourself harshly onto me and my icy limbs were warmed in an instant, I had never felt so accepted.

But I wasn’t accepted. It lasted but a moment. You were cold and sharp when you lashed out and you were salty and it stung when you bashed against my shins in fits of rigidity, an unwillingness to comply to my inquiries: who are you? You swirled yourself around in a toddler tantrum beneath my feet as I tried to free myself from your ire like a woodland creature trying to escape a forest fire.

You weren’t what I expected. It was the cloudiest of days, the sky a hazy shade of mildew blue and the wind flung airs haphazardly above us, separating us, loudly between my ears and I couldn’t hear you and you were upset. To express it you grinned an evil toothy seafroth smile and splashed salt foam in my eyes. Pieces of boney hand shaped driftwood washed up, reaching for the dry land and dry sand and whatever warmth they could grab... but you were too quick. I tried to touch them, but you beat me to them and they were consumed in your cobalt pride.

A feathery ashen osprey chick tried calling from the englazed water gum not far from shore and you mockingly roared back, barely letting her get out a chirp. It hurt to see you like this. So agitated. That chick will never sing as long as you proclaim yourself king of Dauphin Island.