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I like the way
you feel in my hands.
A vice-grip on liquor
and I am holding you-
fingers entwined
the rhythmic circulation
a pulse meeting in our thumbs.

And my eyes- like yours-
stare straight into twilight
but I know- you know-
I'm glancing off at you.
Sideways. And I catch it,
that wink of lash
reflected on stars.

You are in the moon.
My head swelling
a high tide of midnight
as the space for me to safely stand
grows ever narrow
on the beach.
My feet are wet in you.