INTERMITTENT
A harbor, tide and fog – some
blue and yellow painted houses
obscured, fading, across the water.
A hammering
echoing, repeating
across the way.
Woman calling out
“are we going/
in the water?”
“Yeah, go in. I want…”
“You’ll hear me say ‘whew!'”
“I don’t mind….
I heard she said:
‘fuck you’,
then she jumped in…
eyes open…”
There’s a foghorn. Atmosphere.
…”…she was naked… I heard it…
I liked it”
A pontoon boat emerging,
dog at the bow.
The women are silent.
Bare wood along the dock,
a splinter sliding into bare flesh.
Legs over the side,
wet, salty harbor nursing
a puncture.
The voices in the fog.
A heron striking water.
Gobbling willing flesh.
Writer Moe 
I really enjoyed where this poem took me.
Thanks. Where did you go?
Haha! That’s the million dollar question! 😉 I just followed your pen..
I’m happy to serve as guide. Just understand: I tend to get lost, and I drink at times.
Habere curam, amans, and all of that…
You paint such a conceivable image, I can see it in my mind’s eye. And it reads like memory. I feel you reaching for detail and pushing it forward…drawing it in.
It’s sort of quietly beautiful. Until the last line cuts to reality.
Loved it.
Thank you for this – always appreciate when fellow writers weigh in.