We wade in icy water to our chests,
playing hookey from routine,
sun setting behind you in shades
I’ve only seen in expensive paint.
But it’s your eyes,
gleaming, green-blue orbs,
wide reflections
that may well contain the world,
looking straight into me,
and your mouth
parted in laughter, in joy,
in unadulterated —
Adultery.
There’s that word again, the only
thing that contaminates
the warmth radiating through me,
warmth in places long forlorn,
warmth that stands now
in stark contrast to the sea.
I wish I didn’t know, didn’t have
intimate experience with
the devastation, the consuming,
the shattering effects of that word.
I don’t want that for you.
So I dip my head
and swallow the ocean
to quell the flame.