The Undertow

Off the coast of Venezuela I labour with the undertow
Watery fingers stroke my calves
A timeless massage tells a sensuous story
Bobbing in tepid churn of foam,
I am message without bottle,
written to confront temptation
The sea, an ancient mistress

I have escaped white beach where hockers,
like crabs, drawn to a picnic,
disturb buttered up tourists broiling under sun
Snapping claws exchange trinkets and coins
A sea of glimmer to match waves
that crash and then retreat,
feeding sweet undertow

No languid bath, no steamy shower,
can equal allure of warm sea
Her tide works upon my thighs
with hypnotic soothing pulse
I have been haunted by her
Felt her currents shape my dreams,
pull me further from the shore
where Sandmen unravel sleep

Temptress swells and plays against me
In my mind I am a dolphin,
with flesh designed to swim beneath
the sparkling layers of her skin
Silky clutch engulfs each muscle,
a serendipitous squeeze,
searching for fresh salt
to replenish trembling waves

As I smile, my mouth fills, I gasp,
her spell upon me broken
Half-spent, I turn for shoreline
where my lover waits for me
Her spell is stronger than this ocean's
foamy white seduction