Tonight the rain falls hard, pattering angrily against
the roof, forming small craters on the sand,
dimpling like your face when you look at me,
like my love for you, like the dried skin
in the passenger seat, squished by my thumb
absentmindedly, while you asked me questions,
filling in the blanks, drawing me in,
gas-station-coffee coating my throat.
Tonight my head is not placed correctly on my neck,
it is two degrees away from unbearable.
Kale wilts in the fridge, curling into itself, fading into yellow strands.
Something is clenching my jaw, salt thickening my hair,
clouding my eyes. I cannot see four feet in front of me.
Tonight the music feels far away,
one gust of wind and the whole house might fall apart.
But tonight I look at you,
and I don’t want to look at anything else.
Bare legs hanging off the stool, eyes sparkling with moonglade,
something is burning in the next room, silver smoke wisping in the air,
& I am half dizzy with affection.
Tonight I dont feel the dust resting on my shoulder,
I don’t hear the house groan, shifting under the weight of time.
The termites don’t abandon their work,
they don’t get distracted
by this thing I see in your eyes.
Tonight we let the waves envelop us whole,
we let the current drag us in, spit us back out.
Salt water gushes down my throat,
I cannot say the words I’ve been hinking out loud.
Unforgiving rain falls over us,
& we shiver until day break.
