To Beth: Rochester Falls

You tried to lead me (surely) by the hand across the shallows but we were both too drunk and the stones too slick so we slid stumbling and laughing, falling toward each other all the way across and upriver (rocks bruising our feet) until we were concealed by the night. We held each other close in the dark noisy water that swirled lovingly over our skin like a mother’s caress as she bathes her child— as though the river were our mother bathing us, our pretences floating downriver on her current and making us new. We seemed to melt and flow together in the water and seeing your lunar bodyglow I ached to surrender to you. Later you led me (mischievously with playful eyes) by the hand to your bed where we loved and in offering myself I discovered that virgin is a state of mind.