River Roll

I see the tan lines of the river—
Thin strips of cleavage to the bay
That has its tank top off its shoulder,
Smooth worn stumps expose themselves,
Drying in the sunny day.

The high water mark is falling, falling,
Dizzy and drunk on living love.
Death and parting both surrender
To the nymphy vows and shrug
And wink,
And seal it with a juicy kiss,
And dance in waves of cuddled bliss.

-jenn long