We are langoustines

feeling for love on the ocean floor;

the hairs on our fingers

that we didn’t even know were there

are tendrils reaching for something solid in the dark

each drawing the other in to an embrace

so close our bones begin to fuse

and blood flows freely between our veins – until

even as we sync sighs,

something catches in our breath.

Fibres harden, become our own again

and your mouth tastes suddenly of salt

as if the sea has flooded in between us,

forcing out my tongue.