Your face is full as the moon
unerring the tides of rapacious hunger
A single grain in the roiling sea I want to sink beneath your upending beauty
On a cursive line I will beg for your love as a pauper
joined by the felictious letters that have taken haven in your grasp
you’re the triumphant breeze that catches the archway
the gentle curves of your body flaring to be undressed by the weathered sun
I miss the passing salt mired in your skin