The Taste of Chasm Beneath my Feet
The Sunday afternoon,
Before your tongue split my lips
To make room for it inside my mouth,
I was dreaming of the sea.
How the receding waves
Leave behind a hollow under my feet.
Every time it hits me and goes back,
I sink a little deeper into the sand.
Eight seconds and six swirls of your tongue later
When you withdrew,
You left behind a familiar hollow.