Poetry Wednesday

Affair

The darkening hours were spent, always,

at the edge of the sea

with his eyes breaching the water,

an apex.

Our meeting was a broken picture

blurred around the edges, and

I felt as though he had been waiting there forever,

sliding against the jellies and the grinning fishes,

waiting for me to climb down between the

rocks.

Wood from many ships was caught on him

in places it could catch; planks and planes,

a great mast

hung

and did not sparkle.

I did not think he was a monster; I saw the shadow

of the wreck, down through the water, and

I knew we were the same.

Annnnnnnnnnnnnnd something not-mine that I love:

Adolescence II

by Rita Dove

Although it is night, I sit in the bathroom, waiting. 

Sweat prickles behind my knees, the baby-breasts are alert. 

Venetian blinds slice up the moon; the tiles quiver in pale strips. 

Then they come, the three seal men with eyes as round 

As dinner plates and eyelashes like sharpened tines. 

They bring the scent of licorice. One sits in the washbowl, 

One on the bathtub edge; one leans against the door. 

"Can you feel it yet?" they whisper. 

I don't know what to say, again. They chuckle,

 

Patting their sleek bodies with their hands. 

"Well, maybe next time." And they rise, 

Glittering like pools of ink under moonlight, 

And vanish. I clutch at the ragged holes 

They leave behind, here at the edge of darkness. 

Night rests like a ball of fur on my tongue.