searching for oceans, traveling wide wheat fields, finding seas

the wind whipped your hair

and I brushed it back

to look at your eyes

with mine, my body

at the fringes

of everything.

Your arching bridge smile

and the lovely gavel thud

of our foreheads,

itself an acquittal

like knots in sailors’ rigging;

the ballast in our shoes

kept us from melting

into the clouds.

Glassy pavement never

felt sturdier, reflecting

our shine in

the fecund dusk

as my downward glancing

eyes dream of seeing myself

in your miniature seas,

foam-flecked and freeing.


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