You crawled together out of the blue. You –
brushed your hair in the light of his naked skin – He
smoothed his rough edges on the pumice stone of your shyness – You
leaned on his shoulders after one too many, then
lifted him up one-handed after one too few.

You both –
laughed in the light of your newborn love.
Cried at the sight of a fallen dove.

Virgin, Lover, Wife, Mother, Nurse and Widow
All six names can swallow you whole….

Emptiness blown in the shape of your soul – wide
as the grand blue Pacific, where
waves surge like churches on the backs of the beauties – The ones who
ride the waves with us, who know
the building swell from the crashing surf
like no one could, or ever can.

I want to return to the ocean – to
the rounding swell and the curling crash
and the wet, wet bodies
so small, so just born.
Wailing against the first breath.
A lone flame yearning to burn, though
destined for ash.