Tides of Languor

 Touch the silt
Smoothness of it's fine grit
The dirt inside it flows off
Without staining your finger
Can love just flow off
Without changing the heart
without altering the convergence

up to my ankles, day stepped out
Night rearranged the sky
I am almost motionless
Lapping up the cooling
Pools of saliva desire
To be drooling
A strange reflection on the water

Touch the margin of clay sand
Crumbly and communicative in your hands
Leaving dust that coats the pads of your fingers
Desire sweet in a dormant state lingers
I sluggishly move tracing the fine line
Between the water and the silty sand
Is love a balance like this?

The first stars come through
Orphans disconnected
Shining on obligation
desiring to get closer
Not letting themselves
Only the tide itself has this audacity
To approach, then to recedeTh

 Stars emerge from the surface of the water
I glance back to the drifting firmament
Infinite panes of early evening craving indigo
Touch the sand with the pad of your finger
Grains sliding off but I can't see them
The penumbra of the land obscuring
Specs of faith in my heart I can't count