Waves

Waves sit under the surface and then they rise above on stilts in the night.
Do waves hit the shore because they need the sand or simply because they can?
Waves purloin import with squealing feelers that bind my legs and steal me down.
Does the ocean call me to its depths or has my cry been my siren's song?

Whose radiance beckons to me down here in this dripping grave?
She hums her placid aria to my body and my soul.
Spirits bind together in sweet duress riding on cold tides.
Have I been so blind with pilfered eyes or can they still be mine?

Tentacles reach out to me in a galvanic dance.
Flaring arms sting and send spasms straight into my heart.
Wrapped in her caress, her midnight mane upon my chest.
Aquarium brain is mine and only hers on loan.
I'll gladly drown in our sopping shack.

My ears feel a ruby pang; my stomach drops and trips.
Azure eyes fade in ebony clouds and salt seals my mouth.
The blaze stays molten and refuses to be wetted or soaked.
A year or two or ten and the embers still remain glowing wet.

My stomach churns and my vision careens toward soaked feet.
Tentacles wrench me round and sling me straight up into down.
Nausea in the dark and my heart gores and yowls and jumps.
Forests return; my vision is blind; her eyes glow bright in mine.

A single arid cough, some glowing rocks spring free, now no more than pebbles.
Weight is lifted and my world is shifted; the abyss must come to an end.
Stone ballast flies on shy brisk currents to the bottom of that endless trench.
Minds and eyes and feelers and tendrils rip from ears in silent upheaval.

I throw myself into the air and salt sprays from arms flung wide.
My soul poses in sweet relief against a blue cloudless sky.
Hair coated in prickling salt, turquoise lips hold her single phrase.
My eyes hold the sky in their grey depths and I breathe on hushed seas.

The wave rides away.