Disclosure on a Second Honeymoon, 4 p.m.
they tread on
ocean’s edge
at makena beach,
holding flip flops,
throbbing hands
to themselves.
i just thought you’d
like to know
she whispers,
not because they’re making a scene—
the sunbird in the orange speedo
is several yards ahead of them,
glancing out at molokini—
but because
when we’ve been bad,
we whisper.
she doesn’t touch him,
won’t challenge change,
glances at her swollen belly,
waits.