Pigments of light
draw me to the surface as air
rippled against my skin beckons a
new day.

Between us our contorted bodies gather heat as distant drums

plusate

a primal language long forgotten.

As polarised opposites, we are held
by barometric pressures

with only gravity to our name.

Soon we loosen

& like tectonic plates we slowly drift

heedless of the aftermath above ground.

Shiloh Harmitt