On them float white fluffs
of foam and bubbleclouds. And there,
you wade, in the shoal, you wade
in fiercely roaring innocence, crystal
yet indefensible as water
that breaks into disappearing ripples.
On shore, the saline scent of burnt
skin--its lure tentative, like miniature
fortress of driftwood, worn and wizened
by the reverent tongues of sea
and tides. But, within, hunger's briny
brew swooshes into water-life, inhabits
the arid spaces of heart's hollowness,
my heart tender as the pink flesh
safe in fluted hardshell armor, like those
of creatures crawling among the wave-
strewn kelp, craving for food, for dry-
dank dwelling. The sun, on its loft,
spurts forth ruses of lustlight,
and I, marooning desire, watch
you endure the sting of its rays,
like seduction's, falling in streams
and falling upon the arch of your back
that mimics the beach's gentle slopes,

the color of this sandy domain
where rumors of telltale footprints,
dents, and shreds of a night's shared
passion, alien, unseasonal, perish
like weeds and pebbles at the water's rim.
And there, meet me, when the colony
of stars mirrors the infinite
sea-darkness, and the waves,
the sun-warmed waves of pure embrace