the soft heat

my slippery grip on your hip is
a perilous dilemma,
i do believe. the more coherent,
most cohesive of thoughts proclaim
a firmer purchase would allow for stability, for balance,
but the tossing and turning of waves splashing ashore
is inebriating, in the most glorious sense.

the spicy-sweet scent of cologne masked with perspiration,
love potion number nine, or was it nineteen? smoldering against
the gentle lapping of waves against the sand.

the sunset against your grain-
scattered skin highlights the ocean of your eyes,
alit with the emotion
sinking and ebbing within.

the soft heat rising,
lingering in the circle of the sun,
reluctant
to emerge from its malleable veil of bronze
vermeil. caught fast under the influence of sky,
sun and sand
resting in the crevices between,
rolling in the valleys and

coming to rest.