Her face was checkered as a chess board,
Red and white running where tore,
As she lay belly up on the sand—
Her face begging as she stared at me.

Only one to greet her at such a time;
I felt guilt that it was I that made the find.
Her hands were planted in the sand
And she was chewing on her hair.

I unrooted her limbs one at a time.
Her shoe told a story upon the shore—
A page for each grain of sand.
Her eyes were brown no more.