Entwined. In tiny, multicoloured clothes,
Between their shady, artificial totem poles.
The beach sand seethes, shimmers, simmers with red
And brown burnt bodies, their naked skin
Reminding one, although one loathes
To think of such, of snakes that have fled
From the darkness of their cool holes,
Devouring the sun. Should one beware
Of forms so reptilian?

Anthropologists declare,
And bring forth learned dissertations on the same,
That worship of the sun did end
Despite a huge following, within the lands
Of ancient Egypt.
One might think all their fame 
Somewhat displaced, or that they bend
The truth. Or perhaps they have not seen the sands
Of Bondi in the summer.

                                             1975