Recession

and in aftermath
our breathing hushed
by whisperings
of seabreeze
pale curtains billowing
mold in light
the surge of waves, stillness
of ungathered flesh.

voices of flown birds, voices
of well-memoried peoples dead and gone
echoes of passions and humors harmonize
into this pelagic murmuring
of this our room these our breasts
o love, having loved, we love again
the moment of recession
before our minds, slaved
to some hidden moon
achieve us once again.

don't think, don't cover up
the rhythms that overtook us now
are older than thoughts, lusts, joys
and the brines of your love resound
the salt smell of the sea