i understand
the language of water
her insistence erupt then recede then worship
the eagerness of our muscles straining
against one another a gentle delirium i can’t believe
this delicacy is my life
this is immortality
this is where contagions go to die
i’ve never seen wings as long as yours how many years did you keep
them tucked away afraid to harm the clouds or afraid to get too close
the sun is freezing to the touch
i come from a place where frostbite
is treated by smiling
as hard as you can
count my teeth with your tongue give the devil
something to care about
∞
Marisa Crane is a San Diego-based writer and editor. Her work has appeared in Apeiron Review, Blue Bonnet Review, Pigeon Pages, among others.
