Tea leaves, tightly-knotted and tightly-wound,
form a constellation in the clay pot.
As the air and breath grow thin,
the dark leaves thicken,
and form a bed of seductive seaweed.
It's the water that opens their tight
bodies, makes them swell and pulse as tentacles –
As once my mouth
flooding by some source I could not trace
filled like the the tides and aroused aphros
As once your skin
dried up from pretending
feels moist again against your sleeve –
moist suddenly from the foam below.
Inspired by P.K. Page “Evening Dance of the Grey Flies”