Sundown
The sun had gone down
and the two lay in the boat
dreaming of… what?
The other’s cheek bone, or thigh?
His hand,
her streaming face,
his elbow, her weight
dragging him down to her,
the heavy earth.
And night like a lilac’s singing.
and the quiet of years—
would they wed?
Would they wed?
The bird cried as it fled
over the blue blue sea…
Then it was morning.
They dove into the sea,
white waves reassuring,
it was wind and sun,
sound of silence,
sound of the swelling
world under waves.
And they lay on the boat
feeling the beating
of their bodies, their lungs
rising and falling, sun on her back
and salt in his hair
and wind between them
and waves
moving like white tigers.
She wondered,
can we wait?
How to make out
of this silence a trembling
closeness when he will speak
to bridge the hanging air,
the sullenness, to creep within
and stay here.
But hills stood like steel
shining in vagueness of mist
and the sound of a gull
quivered over the sea
and the death of lips
white-chalked with fear
clutched her and swung
her round on him.
Was this the one?
His hand trailed into the sea
and his eyes were dust.
She crept away
and swam to shore.
Sand and yellow waves,
high peaks like hands
and green green trees.