Post-coitum, he relaxes back
into rumpled sheets, cat-happy.
His lover lies curled in sleep,
her back, her shoulders a trove
of moon-silver, her hair a coil
of gold. He watches through
the porthole - a city skyline;
cranes and barges slide away
astern. Her breathing rhymes
with the blood-beat of deep engines.
Land dissolves and light decays.
He sleeps, sea-dreaming miracles
and the ferry bears them forward
in a straight green line. Only over water,
such flawless symmetry: this
the brief geometry of certainty.
Certainty appears in ANCIENT LIGHTS by Dick Jones.