lady of the waves

for G

when you whisper in my other ear


and the ocean’s roar is all I hear,


I’m afraid 
you may just be enough



when your undertow destroys me


so effortlessly


I’m afraid


it’s too late to call this off

and when your silver tendrils


lock around my helm


and port and starboard


and everything in between


glitter fingers


rainbow kisses


and kelp-heavy treasure chests spilling 


Wonder Wheel wishes,



I’m afraid


we may just be making history—


and knowing the moment while making it is such luxury


even if all that matters


tonight


is that


I am happy



I told you that sometimes


memories take time to rise,


so you took my hand,


led me out on the sand


and we just walked along the tide



oh it’s strange,


this art of making waves—


how conscious and divine,


to feel my cells shifting


to welcome your drifting


from the country of yours


to the island of mine

and when the horizon lights 


disappear and salt spray battens 


your picture windows, I’m still here—


I am the sand you’ll write your name on with your toes


and the ocean who swallows you whole.


You are the dolphin with secret teeth,


belly upturned at low tide


who flips, presenting dorsal fin. I ride. you.

Who knows—in a thousand years


when you put your ear to a shell


you may still remember me 
the day I fell


asleep by your side


under tiny blue lights


in your moon-quilted ashram by the sea.



© Sarah Noack 2008