Naiad

The surface of the water opens
and the raising dome of hair splits,
a smooth plug of water draining off.
The dewy skin of the nymph is blue
and sets trails in my eyes like the sun
bursting through clouds over the dark hills
and mountains over the cattle pass.
The lymphatic system of the rock
shows its pale blue in her, in small pools.

Just as her body breaks the water
so it breaks me. The heather and moss
and the golden reeds in the damp sun
for hours as we walked up the falls are
no protection. I look at my friend
sadly, and my foot joins the stream floor.
My boots fill with water. I shiver
and again I shiver as her smooth
lips touch my ear and pour in water.

Soon I am naked and my skin numb.
The valley’s and lochs of her body
are mine for one short play of white light
in shifting nets upon the cave roof.
Then I notice the half eaten girl
with her heart hanging out but pumping,
just. Her deep eyes are dead barnacles
and they stare at the bone covered floor.
I play in their water like a child.

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