Ode to the Swimsuit In 1870, you came made of wool covering arms and legs your cumbersome suits found themselves on tossed on bushes, or canoes if swimming with the likes of Walt Whitman who sang the body electric. Decades later you ballooned in softer fabrics reaching to the knees leaving bare the juicy curves of shaped calves, descending to nude ankles tempting tasty toes, bare glistening shoulders made beachgoers thirsty for a lick of salty skin Soon enough, you came in steaming colors of sun yellows, creamy whites, spicy reds, and the blackest of blacks, your high cut lengthening the look of bare legs, exposing the buttons of bellies, perfect lines made cheeky cheeks, flat or chubby, beam below Came the day, your work shrunk to 3 triangles and string, or one triangle and string. Still there is magic in the shape of your efforts. A power to draw the eye to the places you are not but more to the places you remain Mary Strong Jackso...