Breath comes easy some nights more than others.
Light showers, sprays. No flow but settling over
the dam’s pour. She does not go with him but stays
alone in the room, where she can watch the eels
wriggling to the top to circle the breathing tank.
He wants to sleep inside her. Once he could, though
she was another, He wore a mask to breathe through,
there was no pump and grind, he slept between her thighs
and dreamed of sperm whales diving with porpoise
where the ocean turns over without tides.
Lightning cracks, clouds roll as thunder rumbles,
but no rain walking, not yet, feet poised on the ledge
where water pours through his toes and mist lays
a screen concealing the dangerous edge.
13 June 2013
copyright 2013 by Floyce Alexander
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