By Dominique Argüelles
I think we should head towards the dunes–
Watch the super moon for a bit.
Bury our clothes somewhere
Can you feel the lunar pull?
The tide sweeping me to you,
Crushing and easing our bodies against
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.