Moon shimmer atop the sea
Take me
Into your crested,
Closing, wet black
Mind-
If I
Stand here,
listening to your
gentle snore, rhythmic as
White noise
No one voice
Rises up
High moon,
Mid-nite, we stand
edge to edge, like the
Folded note
I tried to sing
To you, like serenade
I made a solid
Offer,
of my devotion
Hereby
Anchor leaden legs
that sway and stay
in Place
seemingly,
ceaselessly churning in places
vast, liquid,
Beckoning as foreign skin,
sucking in
the air between
Us, as a magnet may
Be attracted
The Other
shore
is out there,
We stand here
and just Believe
We must.
Painting by Winslow Homer, "Moonlight' c. 1874 in Public Domain.
