In the late dusk
it was cool, wet and serene
as time, placid
as this part of myself
I look out from now.
Then you dived in
and it became tiger skin
coming away from you.
Tequila burned at the back of my throat.
All of my words
spoken from my belly contented.
When I reached into you,
my hands holding your hips
like the rails of an old ship,
I thought maybe Botticelli’s Venus
you were so warm
an ocean forest salt.
Out on the dock
we drank and I looked into
the circle in your eyes
stroked the circles on your breasts
and wondered at the moon full
over your shoulders.