Into the Glistening
His shoulders drive against the cool silt,
and I am there, blocking out the stars as I make
my way slowly, bit by bit, with a gentleness
I know he’s forgotten.
Our mouths meet with every push and pull
– like magnets guiding us into perfect limerence.
And for the first time, there are no words.
His lungs expand, and his willing heart doubles.
He sends himself deeper, and his low, sonorous
keening fills my mouth. He’s here. He’s close.
With measured breath, I move against the
languor of eventide. With our lexicon of
resistance, I ask him again and again, and
he answers each one of my calls with
greets of surrender.
He gives me, without pause, that which is mine,
and he calls the rest his own: all that he’s
touched, and all that he has yet to discover.
Only me, he says. Only mine. No one else.
Every movement is a query bringing him closer
to freedom, wanted or not. He clutches and
shields me against the peril of his yearning, and
I move against our confines, burying us further
into the glistening.
The quivering warmth funnels down, resonating
through the hush of the chamber. And there is a
calm in everything. A spectacular dance of phosphenes.
Welcome home, I tell him.
© Elle Wonders 2009–2016