We lie fixed, dark.
Waves of light butterfly
our bellies, alter our shape.
Tightly wrapped whispers,
exhaled messages in bottles
rise, burst the surface.
The ocean is solid with us.
It can be walked or even driven,
since we inhabit a mutual sea.
Glass-bottom tourists watch,
amazed by our symbiotic art,
having never seen love so deep.
I'm pleased to have the talented R.A.D. Stainforth read this poem:
Visit his excellent blog Black Dogs.
image: sculpture by Jason deCaires Taylor
Join The Mag creative writing group.