I am water, dark and deep, at the foot of
mountains where wild fruit grows.
At the end of the earth lie broken hills.
I journey through valleys with the innkeeper’s
daughter, she is the child that
will never be born.
I want to lull you to sleep
with stories of my youth, but
I never had one. Still
my heart is a lake of caresses
waiting for someone
to take the first plunge.