In Praise of Falling

Say Yes

SayYes The texture of tree bark beneath my hand as I steady myself against the trunk, hook my thumb in the heel of my shoe, release my bare foot onto wet grass. Naked—we become, not lovers glowing, but dark of turned earth, questions held on the tongue.Velvet of July’s humidity warms the skin as we cross the dirt road to the pond—not inky, not oil—water in a diviner’s black bowl. Step in, your hand says, sliding from my neck to the hollow of my back. Swamp grass, silt, mossy rock slipping underfoot—I’ll say yes to anything—dark night, cool water rising. You, coiling my thigh.  Dumesnil PGS:Layout 1 4/28/09 12:32 PM Page 76 ...