We were pulled alongside one another
in some tide, some swell,
an accident of the current
or mischief of the moon
that drew us into stride, braiding
our images together
with the elegance of tangled seaweed.
We slept that way, tossed onto the sand
by the restless sea
until its jealous tendrils teased us apart,
leaving no name, no mark
to show you were real
but the half-remembered tang
of your words.
September 11, 2009