I learned
to let my body give                  it was not I
who controlled the rocks
                                                  Robert Kroetsch (1927-2011)


for an instant                        I thought
of the difference between        air and
without thinking             her flipper
buoyed me                         out of
gender and the institution        was
what                         I forgot

ankle turned       into the fin
I always wanted    to know
something other         than air
float      belly-centered in love

and it was not difficult         this
landlessness                        at the pivot
of our dance                        what matters
what touches      in what language

when the others join                         too
the curbs and spiral stairways
will all dissolve into       swirls
of joy and         breaches

and when I spun          surprised
in the blue-grey     to look
surprised            at her eyes               she
even more   surprised  was
there too       really          really

the waters were       words mostly
verbs of being       ecstatic     and
I did not miss                        my groin
at all               sleek we swam         away

iceflows and schools of             ideas
art and movement       through liquid
ease she teases and          swims better
than I ever                        dreamed

another state of         being
intimate with        oneself            water
a wet embrace of care                        full
of promise         loveswirl

and swerve      you            sped
ahead and             I                learning
floundered after       eyes
finding new    colours the shape
of your longing           receding

a moment of doubt         would
you leave        adrift      I wonder
how would I find land again     but
by body knows now      it will not
turn back      arched
dove                           deeper

where currents meet         and fishes
are rich            we reached       fins skyward
stretching the surface of the
possible           beach pebbles against
skin a sound of                  release

the waffling wake of
past lives            land-bound slow
walkers and linear        thinking
maybe you and I        maybe

water riffled around         our discourse
of love bubbling with the             future
my sore ears disappeared      overused
to the inane blathering of news

your paper fell apart        paint ran
books disintegrated into soggy messes of intention
clothes dissolved into            sensation
our house became the many
horizons        became a progress toward