Sunday Morning.

Sunday Morning.

Sunday mornings smell differently
Despite the state, the hour, the mate
I have long pondered the scent
drifting, light, on the air
from chapel to temple
into the singed nostrils
of last night's sinners
and today's saints.

My nose, pressed into your belly
Teeth near your vulnerable skin
I pretend I am a tiger
I crawl and I pin
Snarl and snarl louder
when you proclaim me cute
and harmless
I bury my forehead against
your navel
and say quite ripely
if not so rightly
that I could tear your apart

Teeth snap, low growls rise
And in the morning light
I like to hold you down
sunday morning sun on my back
waves, you are the sea, I fight
I ride, I am held up to the gods
your hands, I steer I throw my
weight into the struggle
the moaning wheel, splinters
in my tender girl skin.

I bend my head
and in my softness
in my tidal voyage
I wish that I was like
other great captains
who knew, in the last minutes
sea tearing at the decks
that sometimes it is smarter
to abandon ships
before they go down
to give up on the horizon
and visions of the shore

Eyes to the sky
Northern star
It is not salt in my scent
It is not anything I thought
the storm subsides
down from the crow's nest
I come, slowly, decisive
holding on for dear life
my boots hit the wood
I have lost my sea-legs
and I tumble
I crumble

Huddle
Mumble
I am alone
white sheets
hotel room
four hundred miles away
there is no sun today
New England breathes in
across my bare back
and here I lay
so close to the sea
but I am no pirate
I am no sailor
I am alone

I think back
it's the cold, the sea
that captures me
forces me to look at photos
these memories in my mind
of the February we got in your car
and we drove to Coney Island
it was the same day
but only of the week
not of month
not of the year
and you will still in love with me

we watched the polar bears
prep and brag and run across the sand
shudder, body, shutter, camera

And out in the distance
the freightliners in the grey water
We stood, hand in hand
eyes to the sea, watching
wondering if any man could ever
survive the swim to England