I pull you close,
lick the saltwater from your lips,
feel the furnace fire between your legs,
just as the justice of the sun
disappears behind our entranced silhouettes,
and we make this moment ours.
all hands and arms and ribs and backs,
groping at the body that becomes us,
the bodies that feel the ocean eat our ankles,
and we slowly go to knees,
then horizontal on the horizon.
my back is in the waves,
your tummy stomach arches in my midst
as you straddle my soul
in this delicious dying dusk
while my dick is inside you
and interlocking fingers figure the rest out.
moaning like time has stood still just for our hour glass
and our perverted private raucous roll in the sand
just as the surf roars, just as poetry plays our organs,
your neck welcomes my breath, while poetry cannot
entirely encapsulate this shrieking delight,
as the tide rolls back beyond us,
yet we lay, you layered upon me,
both of us without energy,
willing to drown for the now.