Goddess at the Shore

Lights up. FAMILY picnics, center stage.
Cries of gulls, waves smashing ashore. Enter,
stage left, at speed, a splendid foxy blur:
the GODDESS: All hail! Hail my new perfume!
DAUGHTER: Yuck! What did she roll in? Good grief!
YOUNGEST: Get away, dog! You reek! You reek!
GODDESS: Bow before me in my radiance.
MOTHER: Ugh! She found a dead fish or seal.
DAUGHTER: No way I’ll ride home with that stink!
GODDESS: I bring you this powerful and
unique scent as a portent of my strength–
FATHER: Get her to go in the ocean.
YOUNGEST throws sticks offstage. GODDESS pursues.
MOTHER: She won’t dry with the salt water
plus it will make her scratch. Stop throwing things.
GODDESS returns. FAMILY stands, meek. Beat.
DAUGHTER: I refuse to ride for two hours
with that rank dog.
YOUNGEST: We can’t leave her!
DAUGHTER: Everything will smell like rotten–
MOTHER: Yes. I’m sorry. FAMILY packs
picnic, exits stage right. GODDESS remains.
GODDESS: Subdued before my majesty,
my followers, at last, bow before me.
YOUNGEST: (From offstage) Come on, Butterscotch!
GODDESS exits stage right, barking. CURTAIN
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Filed under Poetry

Pamela Hobart Carter loves Seattle as much for its water and mountains as for its bustle and creativity. She explores the Emerald City daily while walking her dog. Carter used to be a teacher who wrote on the side. Now she is a writer who teaches on the side.