Sex, Kink, and the Erotic: "Moonfish" by Sean West
Moonfish
Tingalpa Creek
Under barbed wire fences of private
properties, taking shortcuts through secret
dirt bike tracks behind our local Baptist
Church, we starfished shirtless, skinny
as all fuck, pale as moonfish. He refused
to touch me. I loved him then, didn’t have
words for it yet, something beyond blood
brother or boy crush. We backflipped
from sketchy rope swings into murky
depths. Bull sharks bum-rushed beneath
the surface. You might still be able to hear
their fins whip creek water. We only caught ripples,
never gory details. Those sharks seemed as shy
as I was—pale bodies, no hair, all smooth
bellies with an appetite for something
just beyond reach.