Not Alone, but Swimming


Does giving up mean being over,
                                                    the way a dumbbell leaves
the hand, saying this arm is done?

I listened to the sound the ocean makes
                                      where like a bridge I found myself
arched above your rippling yes,

feeling you curl under me as if
                                                   the arm that once was tired
found a way to bend again and

stroke the perfect blue. Wet
                                                     with wonder, we returned,
not alone, but swimming.
                                             
                                                    You made the sea believable.


*

Daniel Edward Moore lives in Washington on Whidbey Island. His poems are forthcoming in Lullwater Review, Emrys Journal, The Meadow, West Trade Review, Toho Journal, Muddy River Poetry Review, The Lindenwood Review, Sheila-Na-Gig Pandemic Anthology and the Chaffin Journal. He is the author of ‘Boys’ (Duck Lake Books) and “Waxing the Dents” (Brick Road Poetry Press).