Forecast: Rain

By: Sasha Balkaran

Summer sunset at Riverside Park.

But I feel warm—you are near.

Chalked palm open for you

tenderly tracing moons

again like you used to.

Ocean exhales, boat jolt

Imagine my eyes resting

But they remain

open, milky, stubborn

But they remain fixed

on the water.

Your eyes hide under skin,

Skin so thin I see an ocean

of fish flipping in hazel light,

Fingering through the twilight

for something familiar.

A puddle is still, beneath our hands

so my fingertips trace a shallow ring.

You gaze at my calluses, softening:

This is as intimate as we wanted it to be.

I nestle my head on your shoulder,

ear rests in the hollow of your neck

tuned for unrestrained, ventricular flow as

we navigate charted, depths of belonging.

My palms encircle your waist

And

almost meet.