The estuary.

(archival, July 13, 2025) We kiss at the boundary. Your taste is saline but pleasant My breath is fresh like winter’s morning. We touch tenderly at first, My soft streams reaching out to caress your cheek, And your tide erodes me slowly, As we spill into each others’ depths In a place where only the night sky knows of our meeting. And so it happens. Our storms surge against each other Your seafoam…