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Gravelly Point MAG
Midway to morning,
Baby moon speckled freckled horizon
Sweeping ’cross my lashes
Makes me think of you states away
Caught reliving last time we were us
Watching crabgrass grazing on the bank
Of the Potomac where boots batter rocks in bellows
For their mate and the children along the marshland
in burgundy and cobalt and ginger dripping pizza sauce and soda drops
from their lips that fall along their chins to rest in pools
past the neck kissing the collars of their T-shirts,
they ran around us in shrieking circles
when you clasped your hands around my waist
and I pushed my toasted nose into the dip above your collar bone
as the planes fluttered overhead up and down, calling out
a notice of their landing on time … or twenty minutes delayed
which didn’t matter for we had nowhere to go just
the right person to do nothing with
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God bless,
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