Sokha Beach is immaculate, maintained.
Its sweeper is clothed head to toe in loose,
cool-looking shirt and pants as green
as leaves on the foreshore palms.
House-guests sweat under beach umbrellas:
read, sleep, watch discarded plastics make landfall.
Face shadowed by do’un, a conical hat,
and a veil more effective than baseball cap,
sunscreen and mosquito repellent,
the sweeper works west toward the restaurant,
pausing at the deck, her turnaround point,
to lay her rake and rubbish bag on the sand.
She raises her veil, rests for a long moment,
looking down the coast to the Khmer village,
green-hulled fishing boats rocking at their moorings.
Then she lowers her veil, collects her tools
and turns eastward, works back toward the resort.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.