in one, a portrait of men made out of a glass of water,
a wolf in a lifeboat, and a pool.
In the other, you, my love, and a river;
there are sharks in the river and a crow singing a fragment of a song
about our year as insomniacs.
I can’t swim! I say.
The wolf is flirting with a pig; they whisper cute names for each other:
the wolf is a tiny duck, the pig is the sea.
As if we are slow dancing:
you push a fragment of a door towards my head. The crow sings
about a turtle in love.
My love says,
I have been up with the night and fragments of our arguments again.
We swim to the harbour.