when the sun is sulking
she swells like the moon,
a sylph bright
              and naked
crescent ribs blossoming in the doorway

a bruise like a kiss
on the hollow of her
hip

footprints spot the lawn, there is
earth on her feet when she wriggles
across the quilt to where I lay
she traces the line

of my jawbone to the place
my ear nestles into my hair and she strokes
the crook of my ear lobe

there is brine between her
collar bones and I drink it in-
the salty-tang

when we lay afterward, repose,
we are splendorous in our sweaty, cavernous bodies.

she rises to rinse off. her legs, like a just born fawn’s,
tremble with a new found glory and her hips are
tender, her thighs bruised raw.

my residue shines on the expanse
between her ribs and hips
and I feel strangely attached to her
in that moment, but then she returns to bed

and it has passed.
I mourn for it,

that nameless moment.