Dock on a lake in front of trees in autumn, with red and orange leaves.

We’re on a dock with our feet dangling
in water. The sun sinks below the tree line.

The water is cold. It can’t help it,
there’s just so much of it and the sun

shines across August too quick to touch
bottom. Our legs touch hip to knee. I want

stillness. There’s a tremor always riding
my neuron’s rails, din of thrum and call.

I don’t want you to feel it. I don’t want
that weight between us. I can’t help it.

I want you to see my skin and think god,
how golden, how would she taste, I want

her smell on my neck. Don’t feel my quake,
worry stoned in your mouth instead of my fingers.

I want the wanting. The sun blazes September.
Fall in love with me. Slip off the dock, nothing

in the water can hurt us. The cold knits us
and I breathe the joy of you, weightlessly.

Photo by SurFeRGiRl30, used and adapted under CC.