seashells (she swells)

Curled safe, foetal-like; a question-
mark nestled in the soft yang of his body.
Pressing her ear to the shell of his pulse, an ocean
surges wild beneath his steel-trapped cage
of ribs and roiling riptides, spicy seas and salted-
plum sinews, of ravishing rivers and bullet-
train capillaries. She listens—thumping,
thudding, soothing swish: his
heart holds all the answers.
He pulls her closer; she
nuzzles into the silver-grey
comfort and she knows
that she is loved.
She is loved.
She is loved.