Like the Surf Loves the Shore





LIKE THE SURF LOVES THE SHORE


Across the tan lines
the tongue licks,
sucks the half moon band
closer to heaven
until
it narrows to a tight lip,
then swallows.

It repeats
and repeats
and repeats.

Spume splats the rocks
in a rhythm matched by
sloppy goodbye kisses
that mean hello
in their private
tongue.
Heat meets cool,
flows,
churns,
steaming within.

The surf batters the coast
as hunger batters ecstasy
within them both,
their final kiss
gone with the middle wind
carrying love
to the heights.








©2015 Christopher Reilley
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