Your eyes meet mine.

I don’t dare look down.

I must remember not to

steal a glance at your lips,

or the conversation is lost.

I may never recover.

Like a look down

when climbing at great heights,

one dizzying glance

might be all it takes

to send me tumbling.

I am conscious

of every part of you.

Your hips shift in your chair,

and I must be careful

lest I lose all balance

and fall out of orbit.

Do you also feel

the tide of your body

pulling me to you?

like a wave that threatens

to pull me under?

But still we talk…

If so, I would not wait

for your tide to take me—

I would wade out to you.

I can feel you lapping at my skin

…but you’ve asked me something.

Somehow I manage an answer.

Your eyes meet mine.

We have only just met,

but you look back at me,

familiar, remembering.

Perhaps we knew each other

in a dream?

You were the sea,

and I was a woman

dancing in the waves?

Or were you the moon?

And I, the sea?

But we knew each other, didn’t we?

In a crowd of faces,

I would know your eyes,

seek them out,

return to them

again and again.

They feel like home.