flat.fish.flesh

It ought to be a full-on howling gale
that tears you ear from ear right through the night.
A rant at all that wrecked this loved up tale.

It needs to shout away till mouth turns pale
and rip to shreds the shade as fades the light.
It ought to be a full-on howling gale.

An unapologetic wind for sail
to cast your half-shelled goddess into sight.
A rant at all that wrecked this loved up tale.

It stirs to throw the storm right off the scale
and force a face to eye a lamp too bright.
It ought to be a full-on howling gale.

Its song is heard in midnight’s distant wail
and from a tug on torso zipped up tight.
A rant at all that wrecked this loved up tale.

Before it strikes take care, you’ll need each nail
to stand against the swell as waves take height.
It ought to be a full-on howling gale.
A rant at all that wrecked this loved up tale.

X marks the spot, on childhood’s pirate charts,
we sought for Silver’s silver in the sands.
Love from below, unearthed in two new hearts,
brought buried treasures up into our hands.

Right here’s the x, and written just like this,
it’s where we went and planted our first kiss,
drawn from that source, penned out across our page
and rooted to the spot of our green age.

Come lose your shoes and join me in the water,
I came up here to you a son not daughter
in other words, I burst, a naked flame,
still shedding still the sparkles, still the same.

This stubborn scratch records yet one more thing
and to your cross this flower that I bring
will lift new bud above with every spring.
Its cutting lines and rhythms we still sing.

The words I’ve found to fit today
are not goodbyes but I love yous.
They pave an ancient, climbing way,
the path we take with those we choose.

My giddy tongue shall take no rest,
not slow the pace or allow crust
to dam the flow before high crest
runs rhyming home. It does not rust.

Talk keeps the ebbing tide at bay,
instructing moon to halt its course.
Hang high instead above that way.
Not leaving star won’t know remorse.

West wind in blowing tries to steal
the voices shouting from the peak
but fails to quell those verses real.
It’s them that I have come to speak.

Each everything that burns must have a spark
to kindle fertile tinder in the dark.
Your glimmers fanned the ember, lit my flame,
to brighten both your hearts and eyes the same.

The push that sent me running to your arms
was strong enough to bind our worldly charms
and cement bonds that carry all this way
to find us here so happily today.

Though distant speck was such a skinny part
still visit can’t begin without that start.
And lacking jolt? No one just cannot be.
That being is the thing that makes me me.

Not all our things move on, no not this one,
that started long ago yet has not gone,
that pours itself anew when you I see,
my love for you and, yes, your love for me.