Thalassa! Thalassa!

a
Born of thee
I cannot
but lend my
conched ear
to your beat.
My flesh
pulsates
under the full moon,
quivers
& dissolves
the night.
My luminescent
organs ―
known only to thee ―
exist
when you
call them by name.

I hold
your protean
face
'tween my hands
& ravish you.
Once ― when
you had fled from me ―
I went searching
& found you
on a blurred
northern shore
licking the ribs
of a whale ―
I wished
they were mine.
Another fight
& I had to cross
the nec plus ultra
for you ―
received your pardon
on an Irish (l)edge.
I long for the
moment when
we'll both collapse ―
burning with melancholy
exhausted &
content ―
in the
Portuguese
twilight.

Then
you'll speak
only of me ―
my ember ashes
ingrained in your tongue ―
I in every vowel
You in the smooth consonants
of your name.
Thalassa! Thalassa!
a