alison theodora baenen
poems-spring-tide
SPRING TIDE
Undressed and adrift in the swimming pool
we had broken into with a secret
key you’d seen slipped under a false rock,
we pretended this was something we did
all the time. I had never been naked
in front of you and I was aware of
my arm hair, long and pale, floating across
the clear surface of the water, tugged like
seaweed by slight waves our bodies made.
Not sure where to look I tried the moon, but
the pull toward your central axis was strong.
Spring tides occur season after season.
In one dark corner you kissed your girlfriend.
A constellation I’d orbited many nights.