You like my knees (you choke to me,
thick-tongued). My short legs knotted beneath us,
seaside freckled. Bare toed.
I like your elbows (I sigh.
Your smile presses crescents on my skin).
Would our breath makes indents in the waves, like icy air?
Sea glass hums G sharp by our ears;
you cajole manta rays into skimming the tide.

Thankful for the warmth—
dipping salted tongues in January,
for beach towels, for rice cakes and
sparkling grape juice.
You, I hope, for my fingernails on your neck,
for the hotness of my blood. I, for starfish, for looking at you.