No traces
She took me to the crossroads of the skin.
She breathed on me - she let me in.
She showed me all her secret places.
And while I thrust my blood and stories into flesh
and traced the lava through my veins
and through her died and rose again,
she laughed and hooked her nails into my back.
She rolled like the waves - she soared.
She caught us flying fishes
and kneaded lusty bread
and held me there forever and then left
and left no traces in her wake.