Forty Five

Posted on April 23, 2008

7


He held my hand with conviction, thirty hours into knowing I existed,
Pointing out stars shining on wet, wet sand.

One chin tilting forty five degrees upward, Z Axis.
The other, forty five down.

Snug in the depth of his voice, through his chest.
Giggling, tickled by bubbles bursting between our toes.
Ankle-deep in love.

Posted in: 55, Prose