Page 13 - Chimera by Hannah Sheridan

Sunset on Pomponio
I ask if he will catch me
when I am already in his arms
He bites his lip
stares through the fingers of slow
roasted clouds
spends no breath on words that do not
need to be said
Quiet, I watch his thoughts
flutter in the crease between eyebrows
the pressure of his index finger on the incline of his neck
I collect rocks and shells, lovingly dip pebbles in ocean foam
searching for pieces of us
to hold so we will never
pass
We sit on a bluff between rock and sand
I examine each of my collection before tossing scraps of smooth shell back to the ocean
it is better than a forgotten
corner or lost unknown or a shard that lodges silently between my ribs
reminding, always reminding the tip of my tongue
long after rolling water
fades from fiery orange
brushed deep purple
He does not question, only watches
pauses to kiss my hair as the impressions in my palms
ache with lost recollection
As he takes my hand, his warmth
slips around my core and sighs
I tuck my secret
into the linen pocket near my chest
a chip of pink quartz, soothed by sea
when I held it to the light of the setting sun flecks of gold stained my eye
His gaze finds mine
newborn certainty
thrums in the pocket over my heart I drink in the flash of green
as it flickers across his irises