She is a wind rippling through
a field of water,
the flowers gasping to stay above the plastic surface.
The world can blow away like a wish.
She is a wish of piano fingers
and leathery song.
The touch of her mind on the water
designs waves that don’t care who they drown.
He is an island,
crunched and crumbling.
Seven sisters treat the water to something
Red
New
Foul.
Miniature Moon 