At night I go in search of you
asking my bedsheets to transform into flesh
or hills that i could move through
like the city blocks to you,
your skin to me is a shore
my hands are ten sailors on two fragile boats
i tuck into the sand. it is wet
and forms around me. i use my binoculars
to find your eyes; they are the tide,
your lashes swing their waves
to sink me.
