I lay my body on yours
and feel beneath me the bare earth—
warm sand of a beach,
forest moss, prarie grass.
Inside you are things like stones or twigs—
hard places to arrange myself around,
or push against.

Our fluids mingle—
sweat, saliva, secretions—
rivulets flow into streams,
streams into rivers,
rivers into oceans.

Cool air passes between us.—
rushing like time.
But in that airless place
on the sea floor
there is fire—a volcano
building new continents.