Wet in Algarve, we tumbled down into Agucadour,
where we go to escape judging eyes, knowing eyes,
to elope in a temple beneath the water.
Once there, inside the Atlantic palace,
pacified by salsifies, we stepped
in unison — toes first for you and heels first for me —
legs moving in sync, passing gates and columns
guarded by a Neptune with two tritons.
I saw marbled ash and sea-vein’d floors,
samphire growing along the walls from each corner
of this submerged hidden home. There
we were hidden away from the thunderous drums of storms,
away from the sun’s reaching hands.
There we sat on a throne — knuckles white from squeezing
the golden armrests, bodies rolling like the currents,
guppies and shrimps float around us, sea life attracted
to the magical swell of our land-like gravity.
You nestled your face in anemones bound to my ribs—
you tried to cup the large jugs of seawater
sagging from my chest — an oceanic shroud distorting
your sight — clumsy movements, tripping under the sea.
We move together like fish in lateral undulation
to our made bed — the open mouth of an oyster —
laying like salsifies as crinoids take refuge on our
wrinkled flesh — sloshing along with the tide
as the Atlantic embraced us, lulled to our end.
Sep 29, 2025
Sep 29, 2025 at 12:39 PM UTC
Wet in Algarve, we tumbled down into Agucadour,
where we go to escape judging eyes, knowing eyes,
to elope in a temple beneath the water.
Once there, inside the Atlantic palace,
pacified by salsifies, we stepped
in unison — toes first for you and heels first for me —
legs moving in sync, passing gates and columns
guarded by a Neptune with two tritons.
I saw marbled ash and sea-vein’d floors,
samphire growing along the walls from each corner
of this submerged hidden home. There
we were hidden away from the thunderous drums of storms,
away from the sun’s reaching hands.
There we sat on a throne — knuckles white from squeezing
the golden armrests, bodies rolling like the currents,
guppies and shrimps float around us, sea life attracted
to the magical swell of our land-like gravity.
You nestled your face in anemones bound to my ribs—
you tried to cup the large jugs of seawater
sagging from my chest — an oceanic shroud distorting
your sight — clumsy movements, tripping under the sea.
We move together like fish in lateral undulation
to our made bed — the open mouth of an oyster —
laying like salsifies as crinoids take refuge on our
wrinkled flesh — sloshing along with the tide
as the Atlantic embraced us, lulled to our end.
