The way your skin prickled -tight- over your hips
and the plunking -wet- noise of water
                   forced out of a cave
are what I remember about that December, lovely, oh, lovely.

Your -blonde- hair rippled and shook loose
with each ramming pulsation and throb -stab-
but your hair -curled- tight was rough. -Unmoving.-
                below,       dripped More, now, more.

Your toenails felt like ice -pink, red, buff- on my calf
they drew dragons between the forests of my -leg- hair
circling around, bumping –bruising- and chanting,
                           Be full, full.

Until –after- we lay limp and glistening in -love- dew
the floors creak and winds scratch -outside- too loud, -empty-
   but,
                     We, -thought- *we are whole.