Poseidon

Grab your newspaper, the file folder on your desk, anything you can use as a fan, because you're going to need it while reading this face-flushing, scintillating bit of poetry by Pam Martin-Lawrence

You walk like water, rippling muscles the stream down which I dream of drifting.

As you glide by your passing lifts damp hair off my neck. I feel runnels of sweat down my back like window-rain, dissolving my desert rose spine, leaving me boneless, liquid, puddled.

Standing wave, you engulf me.

My mouth salt waters, and I am dragged down in your undertow, saved only by your hands snagging in my hair as I fall to my knees.

“Give tribute to your lord, Nereid.”

And you swell and you surge and my waters overspill their rockpool and flood my thighs.