on the vast flesh of your lover
Tangled up in a body of water
that drifts away when
with clasping arms and heavy heart
you ask for it to stay

Swimming against time
up and down a coiled spine
a bailiwick of waves where
blankets are underwater caves
that echo with the spell
of something you do not own
and yet drenches you to the bone

you were to slot in the thought
of the abyss you’re leaning over –
well, then you’d be lost:
you’d be the perfect lover.

Elisa Ronchi – Floating