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We pointed our tent towards her, lay with our heads
in her direction.
Looked out at her in the dark with curiosity and fear.

We listened for her breathing all through our slumber,
steady and fast.
We couldn�t see her, but felt her writhing through the ground.

In the morning, the sun glinted off her skin,
enchanted us.
Our love was complete and essential.

You led me into the stream, seeming unmoved
by her frigid uncertainty.
Your left hand clenched shut; your right was outstretched.

I found your fingers with a certain lack of precision
that you loved me for.
The water bit our ankles and we swallowed hard.

You held my waist while I bent over backwards
and washed my hair.
All my follicles belonged to her.

When I emerged from her womb, your eyes were aluminum
foil balls of different sizes.
You stared at me like electricity.

We swam in her hipbone, searching for tiny fish
and shiny rocks.
We hid them in our pockets to show each other.

Once they were full, we walked ashore transformed;
we were water people.
Our m�nage � trois secreted by her boney enclosure.

We never felt at home again anywhere else.