And the moon is almost full.
Alone at the edge of the continent.
Wanting to yield and nurture.
I'd like to love you here.
Sand and sea oats
And the tide will flow.
Cover the impression our bodies make
Washing away the proof of my surrender.
This barrier island is not permanent.
Careless of structure,
A storm with my name, perhaps to come
Sweeping and tidal.
Women are destructive.
` Delilah Riordan, April 11, 1998