All your pink dreams come fluttering
Down the slope of your new breasts,
the swell of your belly not quite a moon yet
soon it will be ripe;
full like the curve of a wave at it’s perfect crest
aching for the tug and pull of tides and lips
sleepless and glowing,
silver sand on the bottom of your feet scattered each night in the sheets of your bed

delicate
like the first shell put to a child’s ear carrying salt and seabirds in its coils,
delicate
starfish and purple urchins dancing in a rocky tidepool.

sail on down this marsh river
anchored to the mooring of your own skin
sail into this clear night
where each star has the shape of your mouth.