The black water curls

Tight around my ankles

Like wispy ghost fingers,

Trying fruitlessly to drag me offshore.

Their fingers slip away each time they try to grasp me,

Retreating back into the dark sea.

When I continue to pay their snatching no mind,

They lurch up in outrage,

Crashing against my calves,

Spraying my knees with seafoam,

Coating my skin in sticky grains of sand

Before sloshing back into the deep to regain themselves.

They strike again,

Then again.

Again.

Begging for my acknowledgement,

Prying for backlash,

Urging me to retaliate.

But I don’t give them the satisfaction.

I continue down the beach.