Marilyn Monroe
In turquoise seas she plays with salty breast
And rolls in foam, the sand coating her chest.
Apparent ease at close up camera clicking.
Paraded coyly with her long legs kicking.

The waters clean her skin but not the marks
And rising tides wash-up old memories
Of glanced-at prints that flooded flawless cheeks:
A touch developing in negatives.

Committed to the surge forevermore:
Her deep blue secret grave beyond disgrace.
The world will mourn her loss (as users do)
But ocean gets her honest visage true.

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