*whistle* (too short)

I whistle a tune. Seemingly into empty space. The black slick water merging into the equally black sky. Not clear if the sky falls into the water, or the water throws itself into the sky. Bits of light reflected in both.

And there I whistle. The water marks the grey bleached wood of this skiff. I am so still, the water, the air— it doesn’t even lap. I just fill my lungs and whistle. From deep in my walrus flesh it comes. A tune you taught me. Gifted me. Really just through love. And so I whistle.

In my heart of hearts I know you hear it. From across this world. For you have never left the water. A true mermaid. And it is in your heart. That same black slick water full of stars. Stars floating and budding like lotuses. You hear it and purr. And I hear that. Like a tuning fork. A tone that touches my heart. Resonance…

I realize even this walrus sitting on an old skiff, bathed in stars. Real and their reflected twins. Is another piece of this light. This is a grace of your love. And I weep saying that. On this patio , in this heat, drinking this beer. As they call bingo. Your love showed me my own light. Such a grace…

There are so many things I have found in you. In your hair, your sweat. On the wetness of your lips. Your…

I can only ask myself as I whistle, sandwiched between the stars and their reflections. Are you another star? Just like me? Or are you this space, this dark water. So warm as I slip off this skiff and enter you. Slowly and tenderly. As only a walrus can…

*whistle*