this is for the one who got a way with it
locking eyes with the sea.
this is for her and the sea.
her feet on the drain board
and head on the counter.
I want to cheat,
and I've got myself saying it
and there is no going back
from the word.
there is the week where the summer is soaked
in unhindered kisses below the tree,
much too late at night
she calls it
opening the zipper with her teeth
and weighing the stars on her tongue.
just like these words sit on the tip of my iceberg
and I surge the undercurrents.