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 that I’m glad
that I have a bottle filled with my old teeth.
They fell out like a tear in the bag.
And I have a sister somewhere 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.
I’ll show you the sky
