Hot Tub

by Julie Gerrard

Night sounds layered over silence,
our watery stirring distinct
from the susurrus of channel current.

Deneb and Vega shine in the Swan.
Water flicks light from your lifted arm.

Distant dog barks a hollow nocturne,
moon tunnels through firs.

Behind my neck, water slicks the tiled edge.

Five sharp splashes break the tide’s soft assonance.
    - Oars?
    - The orca that breached a sunlit afternoon?

Our shoulders press close –
feel my heart pulse in your chest

Julie Gerrard lives in Seattle, travels when she can, and writes poetry at home and on the road. She recently won 3rd place for her entry in the 2006 Pacific NW Writers' Association literary contest.