the pause between tides

You, my selkie, surrendered your skin, and

captured me in the silence between waves.

Your body aches for me, and I for you.

In the spray and tumble of waves, your

hand reaches and touches, and

I tremble, as the tidal ebb tugs and pulls.

Hesitant, uncertain, I reach for you, tangled

together, lost in the ocean and sky of your eyes

the moon swells and dwindles and

swells and dwindles, tides surge and

recede and surge and recede.

And then, my selkie, in the pause

between tides, your hand and arms,

and lips enfold me, envelope me in

the swell and billow and I lose

myself in the flow and flux of skin

Lost in your body, the tides recede and surge,

recede and surge, the moon dwindles and

swells, dwindles and swells.

And now, my selkie, the sea, and waves and

tides, call you. Your time, numbered by silver

swelling of the moon, dwindles to a final

surging tide, and I, helpless to hold back

the ebb and flow, despair.

The Fin Folk sing your name, and of your

return, and I of earth am dumb to song and

sea, I grieve the loss of your eyes and arms and body,

you slip into the tugging  waves of the failing

tide and return  to your home, to the Fin Folk, and

the release and healing salt of the sea.

The moon swells and dwindles,

dwindles and swells.

The tides recede and surge,

surge and recede.