Ode to the Swimsuit

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 Jackson

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