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How can I sever wolf-waves from the selfish sea?
I ache to cut the rogue from the relentless flow
his crest —swelled in high rise on testosterone tide—
swindles my tease to tame his blue Neptune flame
mocking my sun dried bed with unruly despise
he rides a white steed in petulant power with the moon

I am the passive strand of sand longing for his rhythm
oh timpani thunder roll in roll over me  my skin awaits
taunt of aerated fate I await with serrated silence
stranded by him… I await… as inconsequential
as an oyster shell without a pearl
as a pearl unfulfilled without a knotted strand

I am the beach exposed at the lowest ebb
my eyes not sand-blind when cherry sun colors him red
and fuels his restless quest for honeypot conquests
to consummate sunset with supple skies far from home
and conjugate with sugar-shores not his own  

my protests to his stray-sprees lay like loose scree
lure-lyrics litter air —but die a pale chitter in his ear
fruited gripes broken in breakers re-rhymed into pulp 
summer-sweet to his palate as beach plum wine—
whine in the grind of my grain soundproofed by his kiss

where is his echo to my thirsty plea of love
when he’s the romeo sea  and I’m the sand seduced
and exist in recline to absorb his homecoming 
while beach-grass-bending wind 
whips my voice away from my throatless soul?
my resist drowns in liquid grooves of his drum beat
spume churned in surf zone  our spindrift in bloom -yet

echoes of the silent shore  echo in me alone

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