For Herself (a post-Valentine’s poem)

The air moves, churns, eddies and crests
on the shore of your skin
The tide of passion is high and surges up within you
pulling, tugging, molding, compressing you within
from your loins through your heart, against your lungs so hard
that a gasp forces itself through your lips
and cold fire blazes up your arteries to seize your brain.

You move to my beat, your body follows my rhythm
the waves and wavelets gather and slap together, fall and rise again
coursing over both of us
We are the ships in the ocean of night
We are the sea that births all life
We are the tide, the lust and the moon
We are alone and one
In worship of each other, of our selves, of all that is possible to us.

And after the tide has crested, we caress and murmur
as little waves murmur
and smile and sigh and look in our eyes
What care we for the world?
We have each other.

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