Currents

It’s been a while since I posted some poetry. Here’s a poem about first-week summer love and picking at wounds to open yourself up.

Currents

our palms touch as we pack the towels

you laugh

and I think of cannonballs

of sharing water between us

I used to dream of swimming

but I would get stuck

frozen under the lapping waves

lost and doomed to sink

we aren’t the first or the last

to succumb

to honey sick thoughts

while sunscreen rubbed into skin

thumbs on thighs

fingers through hair

I’m watching your shirt

Praying to the god of buttons

Come undone

last night

I didn’t dare dream

watching the door for any signs of light

hoping that you might come

fresh water like ice

our shoulders touch

your love is a lake I’ll gladly drown in