My nipples are stones: smooth, hard, glorious. At the bottom of the deep river we see to the bottom. There are other stones, too. (So many days and dreams!) What they ask for is what we have.
Water…moves…languidly. Nobody rushes. It is midday: robins and wolves drink. Enough for everyone? Yes.
I recognize you, lover. You appear to be The Keeper this time. I appear to be The Watcher. Let the hands move back, let us see the vision: a sailboat, blue still waters, pyramids, paint.
When you first came, I was alone, shutting my eyes: unaware of, or ignoring the leaping possible. Keeping Time seemed easy.
“Where have you been?” I gasped, crazy wide eyes. (This time not screaming.)
Air. Earth. Fire. Water. These are the elements that make us. You hold a bowl with your left, move a small gold sword in your right. We both fall silent,