Water when separate seeks
again a place to pool.
Tonight under the full
autumn moon I feel
the pull to return to water.
The dewy heat from my heart
moves away like the yellow
leaves blowing from the tulip tree.
Since you left, my body longs
to return to a place of its kind.
It calls me to the cool glittering
lake that asks me to give
back what I have taken from it.
All summer we lived at the end
of this wooden dock, and dived
through warm skin scented water;
as lovers wet with laughter
we joined and divided.
And like tonight little luring
hooks of light, called us farther out.
Drew Lavigne is the Anglophone Poet Laureate of Moncton, New Brunswick, a member of the editorial board at The Fiddlehead and host of the Attic Owl reading series. He is author of the forthcoming chapbook The Golden Snare.
