Your barrel-chested body anchors this boat;
we wade in hope like
children hidden in adult coats;
  pretending nothing hurts anymore.

I look down at you; transom eyed blue depths.
I want to sink into the salt of this.
Sandy on my lips, I lean forward into it
and kiss; We both know drowning isn’t sustainable.
Neither meant for life at sea.
Tired travelers who’ve built our own ports
out of oak and ache from mean memories of transit tanks;
beautiful spots we stayed in,
Thought once we might emigrate
                            instead of migrate.

Learned the language, the locals,
Stayed homesick the whole time.
So many times; rowed rough seas of incompatibility;
called typhoons light rain
Taped stress-cracked hulls with epoxy
and sat with wet feet watching the slow drip
gather and sink love dreams.
It’s hard to point lighthouses out now.
Learned to live by instinct like cavefish.
This smooth sailing feels dangerous.
The fireworks light up the ocean line
                Like the dawn of a new year.

I rope my fingers into your beard
As we decipher Morse code, desires, and smoke flares.