Let me lift your nose and mouth
above the waters edge
where you wash away grime,
the way we wash away words
flung at each other.
And under the covers
where we collide –
ultrasonic waves of sound
in liquid silence
touch with angelic softness,
setting aside the edge
of Gabriel’s sword.
And I find you,
no tears, no cries,
no angel’s wings,
and I lift you out of the water
praying that it is not too late –
gulping in those sharp gusts of wind
that blow between us.