Stone Harbor

We were three in league—
moats unfinished,
our weapons weak vendettas
of tongues tying jealous knots.

But knots couldn’t keep us from plotting suns
or charging lungs in the electric air,
with the shore so near we could taste the brine
christening our lips like taffy.

And we could hear the surf
hushing back afternoons that lingered like vagabonds
among blue and canary cottages
sentried in their wooden repose
along the gravel avenues.

And on the beach,
vacant shells begged our fingers
for the ascent
as the tide claimed our naked ankles,
baptizing our toes in fonts of sand.

We became our brothers,
making grand pledges at the edge of the world,
swearing oaths under a star
that flamed our heads and hopes so brightly
those summer halos have yet to fade.