there
were
moments
lazing in our grand isle
eating
unfamiliar berries
drinking unlikely wine
oh
the impossible conversations
they are still blushing
a thousand pages past
todays now
full of
unmailed letters
edna pontellier
to your
nobler
robert lebrun
you hide
within
my structure
boarding house
sketches
and
lines
we return to our ocean
the sand envelopes
our bare feet
regret rises up between toes
shells broken scattered washed
run together in saltwater finger paint
to form pictures of us within tide pools
it will all be taken in by the surf
we are no good
at being cold and wet
let us shed these damp things
we
swim
out
together
awakenings
need
not
be
fatal