Sexual Musings :: Estuary

There is a word for the place

where a river meets the sea –

It’s like a melody

I heard as a child

From the back pew

Of a stained glass church,

Whispering across my skin

On steel core fiddle strings:

“Estuary. Estuary. Estuary.”

And I want to paint our bedroom

In its colors-

Foam gray,

Rippling sapphire,

Rust red,

Caramel brown-

Because I am the river

And you are the sea.

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