The Jelly

In the shallows
where you and I lay
our legs long to bake
in a warm rain,
the sand holds us - you gasping,
and the ripples cast shapes for the savouring of my eyes
and the souls of us grow unsteady and foolish and merge
for a moment.
In this moment,
there is a stinging, aching, a burrowing,
lust lives carelessly.
I remember home,
the soft singing of her lung
and the heavy sighing of his throat.
I remember them without guilt or fondness
but give them time and room to solidify
before indulging, sinking,
before stroking you again
and losing another part of my mind.
Heady and throbbing,
on a stretched and barren Devon bay, with hands widespread
and a heart beaten as if with a pin
for barbequeing,
you share me, before leaving your body here
to go stale in the Sun.
I will know you, what was shared, I'll call it back when I need to feel -
and always, in the deepness, in the salt water, in a place that's free of judgement I'll know your name.