The Space between Two Waves

Echoes step softly on the hem of my skirt..
Careful. Not to disturb
the healing.
Like a cicling mass of violet stars,
Spangled and trapped beneath the melting surface
of molten memory,
you come.

The sun dips, salty swallows over
hedges of orange waves
gather to scatter over naked, red bruises
in the sky.
I come and go.

Puffing on sacred Aphrodite
and her pipes,
from which songs entwine in smoke
and come out embracing,
making love.
I come and go.

A tear in the hem,
and the echoes withdraw.
Stars and smoke and water on memory,
Still. And Silent.
Sharp boundaries blur,
life awakens life,
Leaving music submerged in the accidental
space, between two waves.

Colliding Oceans..and running time.
And her space between the waves.
You Come.