eyes tilting upwards,

force of habit, shame

to see the sky in

breech position, that’s

trouble, but not yet,

road impassable,

but not yet, now for

matters at hand, now

there’s the line, let it

run through the crease of

your fingers, no, not

that one, one down, yes,

spin it, let the reel,

a little more, yes,

now there’s the silver

light of the water,

now on the water,

now above it, now

parted, just a glimpse

of baited inner

cheek, inbound, then

rigid, limpid eyes,

limp bodies, thrashing,

then forehead on rock,

shall I, yes, once, twice,

muscular form, curls

up, seems to relent,

thrice, there, well now that

settles it, now let

it be done, its skin

weeps, visible just slightly

on the black rock,

how are those clouds now

changed, it turns out,

swollen, a pause with

child, it promises

complications, the

first drop is cool by

comparison, the

terrible high and

low, the redolent

hue of what it brings

to bear, making a

gift of its former

life, time and again.