The rising sun shone blue that morning
casting a fresh and secret light
through the narrow room. A girl
was kneeling barebacked on the bed,
a shard of dawn cut between her thighs
and the bedding clouded underneath.

Her fingers curled and unfurled
as if she were explaining something.
The tawny skin of her arm suffered
the movement of the muscles beneath.
Tiny quivers of activity passed across
her shoulders, like the slack and taut thoughts
glistening across the back of a strong bull.

Breathing deliberately her body sways
just barely, as if she is floating
on a waking sea that falls deep below.
Her sails asleep, she navigates
by desire. Resting her delicate fingernails
on the surface of the water, the girl
delights in the music of the gentle ripples.

Certain, like the branches of an adolescent birch,
she seemed to be speaking to the just beyond.
Perhaps she was telling the story of herself,
the pearls of her existence spilling
slowly out of her mouth and collecting
in the crevices of the sheets around her knees.

Or she might have been coming to terms
with the slowness of the previous day.
Why had it seemed like the long moment of rising
from an old dream, and why could she not remember
any of the details? Whispering

of an amaranthine ardor
the girl struggled with the clarity
that was at hand. Obscuring her
unknown lover, the girl's back remained faithful
and the dawn rose and passed.