After Neruda

As I stare from a distance,
I remember the chart of your body.

I am a shell of loss,
and I listen for the call of the gulls. 

I trace your outline, your generous mouth,
the wave of your wanting. 

In that moment, you are the light hesitating.
I plunge into your story. And so it begins.

We are the tides swelling.
Longing is an ancient mariner.

And I know that the place
between your breaths is enough.

Since I have you, everything is water.
So let go my love, the world will wait.