Moon-hiding (Rv. 1)

[danny_]

Rv. 1


Moon-hiding

Little waves nudged our thighs:
'Don't go yet,' as we stepped nearer shore,
water draining off our bodies,
down your smooth legs, orange
from the fiery melting-wax sunset,
and we slipped over the dunes
on trails through sea-oats,
our feet patting the soft sand;
we were purple-blue behind,
facing the light.
We found a sun-burnt beach shack
nobody was renting,
pulled open a little wood door
on a rusty spring. We hid inside
from the full and silver sand dollar
moon rising, honored by its own reflection.
We watched it through the gap
in the walls of the outdoor shower
perfectly too small for both of us;
it drew a glowing line vertically
through the steam,
from your ankle to your cheek -
it knew we were there
but said nothing,
so that we might hide, so warm
in enveloping fog
and
first embrace.

Moon-hiding

Little waves nudged our thighs -
'Don't go yet,' as we stepped nearer shore,
water draining off our bodies, running
down your smooth legs
orange from the fiery melting-wax
sunset, and we crossed over dunes
on trails through sea-oats;
we were purple-blue on a side,
facing the light. And we found
an empty sun-burnt beach house
with a little door on a rusty spring.
We hid inside
from the full and silver sand dollar
moon rising, honored by its own reflection;
we watched it through the gap
in the walls of the outdoor shower
perfectly too small for both of us,
and it drew a glowing line vertically
through the steam,
from your ankle to your cheek -
it knew we were there
but said nothing
so that we might hide, so warm
in enveloping fog
and
first embrace.