What the water wants is hurricanes,
and sailboats to ride on its back.
What the water wants is sun kiss,
and land to run into and back.
I have a fish stone burning my elbow,
reminding me to know I'm glad
that I have a bottle filled with my own teeth.
They fell out like a tear in the bag.
And I have a sister in Detroit.
She has black hair and small hands.
And I have a kettledrum.
I'll hit the earth with you.
And I will crochet you a hat.
And I have a red kite;
I'll put you right in it.
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