Pirouette for Rays

Swinging you
my arms your hammock
I feel an arm drop limply
with surrender against my side.

Sleep is your ocean
muffling sounds as though
through deep tranquil swells;
water, your oxygen.

I am the boat that carried
you here, but I could never be
the captain.

Milk lies drying on your lips
like salt, returning from
a seaborne dream of sailing
on the backs of blue marlins
speaking whale
befriending the surf.

I first saw you through the water.
Now you are pulling me under
to sing for the coral
and pirouette for rays.

Dissolve this me-ness in
rollicking tides and
scrub me clean of
victory self-ascribed and
drown my fear
of the lover’s death:

What is there but the water?

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