Pink Moon

By Dominique Argüelles 

I think we should head towards the dunes– 
Watch the super moon for a bit.
Bury our clothes somewhere
And wait.

Can you feel the lunar pull?
The tide sweeping me to you,
Crushing and easing our bodies against
Each other.

There’s an ebb and flow between our
mouths, A slow and desperate exchange.
Seaweed and black sand
Is spouted and swallowed.

You take too much sometimes;
All of my currents, my wildlife.
My body is left barren,
A dry heart cracking with each beat.

Sometimes I think
I want it to end.
I regret giving so much,
But I forget this when your skin loops into mine.

Can we stay a little longer?
You hold me like it’s inevitable.

I know I should turn on you
When you admit
That you don’t believe in the sea,
And that I should content myself with rivers and puddles.

I could take your face in my hands
And muster some words with my salt-stung
tongue. Ask you to see:
We’re already waist deep.

Or maybe I can unpick the gravel
I collect from kneeling in dirty puddles,
Pretending that waves don’t crash behind my
eyes– I’ll lie and say I have a headache.

I’ll happily let you go
If you tell the moon to just stop.
Ask it to crack open and dissolve for me,
So I can be untied from this spot.
I think you owe me that much.

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