Our Porch at Dusk
Again my breath becomes the sea
as we sit here to drink and rest,
to let the moon move in slowly
above the dunes as day digests.
I want to know your spirit’s wave,
the one that calls you from the pack,
and rising inside your gaze
breaks to say you can now sail back
to me on our porch of dreams,
to us and to what love still means
now as the world drinks its blood
and thirsty still will start a flood
that we like most will not escape.
Still we will love before death’s gate.