Our Vow

Our Vow

The ache of marriage;

thigh and tongue, beloved,

are heavy with it,

it throbs in the teeth.

                        Denise Levertov

                        “The Ache of Marriage”

We are salt

water and mountain

run-off we are froze,

shoulder to thigh,

high beneath

the brief pier

of ice clung, stunned,

we are blowdown caught

midriver when

December through to

April cinch then un

ceremoniously, without

whistle (  —but there is

that whisper at last

that swish, like

your palm on my silk

under…) and then

the pricked catches

because there’s no

not going over now

and everything, from river-

rock bottom to hawk-

caught thermal is along,

when finally the stride

is more than that more

than what’s written

it’s blood coming

up for air and plunging

again, it’s viscous slick,

it’s our Nan-

tucket sleigh, it’s ice

out and you know it

and I know it, its well shit,

you know exactly! After

all this waiting this

stasis, this

custody

of the eyes—

open, dam, open

it’s about god

(again) damn time.

Eat.  And Dear, season,

please, when we get there,

with sweet abductor meat, and

of course, a dash

of salt.