every seventh wave, by winston plowes

Through one unsleeping eye
I trace your perfect horizon.
Drunk all night on hang time,
sculling through the riffles of your ribs
and catching the surf in the dip of your back.

I could bivouac amongst the secret hills
and the pockets of your hips.
Drown my compass in
the harmonies of our breathing.
Spend days counting your goose bumps
and nights drinking your dreams.

I could fish for hours
dangling my legs from the edges of your collar bones,
watching your hair ebb and flow.
Drifting in the numb butter
of our love and counting every seventh wave.

Dust my skin for fingerprints
and you will find only hers.



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