When I walked the slippery,

unreliable sand, across that airy beach,

crossed seven yards of cloth,

and silver moon fragments;

decembers of dead, mossy mulch

and wicked green undergrowth;

and followed you into the deepest,

darkest cave in that forest, Ingrid.

Why did you leave me standing silly,

drenched and bowed under that

massive wall of water,

when you knew I couldn’t swim?