My Lover is the Ocean.

What happens when the tide reaches me?
Should I dip my hands into the foaming
waves?
Or move my feet away a few steps

and tell it,

“I see you, and I am content;
let me be with you at a distance,
tease me with your beauty and your depth.
Let us dream of each other,
ache for each other,
but touch not” ?

What happens when the tide reaches me?
And my legs run to meet it
Like a childhood playmate
I’ve never been able to resist

Will I, should I,

concede
to the glaring lack of choice in the matter?
(My, my.)

Would I so helplessly
happily—Oh! Eagerly–

With such thirst and much colouring
wrap my arms around your neck
and weep, for I have missed you;
And shall I stop to think
when here you are and I am consumed.

I see you come,
and I stay,
waiting, sighing—

in the darkness, in the light
as you swell and subside
with as many storms
and as many songs

I surrender.