Argonaut II

She opens her eyes. She is alone.

Turning in the dark she senses the trees. Senses and does not see - for she is stumbling and blind, tripping over roots and rocks, hearing the elegiac sway of branches. She falls, hands and knees full of dirt, does not cry out. She stays down. It is quiet except for her pounding heart, her rasping breath, the music of branches. Not one creature makes a sound, even the insects sleep. She stays down. She wonders what they dream about.

Slowly she lifts her head. Glimmering through the trees, just ahead, there is.....something. Weary, aching, she pulls herself up, tests her arms and legs, takes a tentative step. Should she be afraid? She is not, she has forgotten herself. She steps firmly, folding back the branches. Her feet dance over tree roots, rocks, vines. She crushes the cool, flat green leaves in her fists and lets go, the branches snapping back over the path.

At a break in the trees she sees the source. A lake and the moon. The impenetrable water caresses the shore, lulling the reeds with it's gentle suck and slap. The moon reflects, mysterious, seductive, on the undulating surface. She stands at the water's edge, wondering, longing. She kicks off her shoes, unties her dress - wriggles free, unfastens her bra, throws it from her shoulders, steps out of her panties - kicks them away and.... stands, feet in the mud - present, creatureful, naked, alert.

With a holler, she jumps! Plunges deep into unknown water. It is shocking cold and seizes her limbs. She stays under, holding her breath until her lungs are on fire, until her head rings - a crystalline sound like the chiming of bells. She stays under. She opens her eyes.

The moon is luminous and cold over her left shoulder. She could reach it in an hour - sleep long, hard and deep on it's dark side. The stars surround her - gaudy prisms - resonant with light. And in between, the dark void. A vast, unobstructed space - she has forgotten herself. She laughs, turns somersaults, arabesques - basks in the cold harsh light of the moon, the song of the stars, the velvety darkness. She gasps and pauses - spotting the earth far below. Oh, it is breathtaking. So small, so precious, so green. So rare....so impossibly bright.

Argonaut

She places her right hand against his chest. The long plane of his sternum fills her palm with presence - with the striving wings of ascending birds, the pounding breath of steam engines, the roar and rush of waterfalls, the vivid locomotion of heart and lungs - it fills her palm with... life.

She wraps her left hand around his neck, twining her fingers into the hair at the base of his skull. She tightens her fingers with each inhalation, each exhalation, pulling him closer - feeling in their bodies the epic pulse of radio tower lights. Silent they stand, signaling into the sky - simultaneously warning and inviting - aeroplanes, bats, moths! - crash into me/don't crash into me.

She presses her lips to his neck and breathes deep. Rain on hot pavement, the rich loam of fresh turned earth, the sun and salt kissed skin of swimmers, the hushed scent of sleep warmed beds, sweet honeysuckle and the bite of burdock. She breathes - intoxicated by the himness of him. She places his hands around her hips, slides them to her waist - willing him to traverse this landscape. She is of the mountains, craggy, rolling, verdant - secret with hollows, tree roots, streams and brambles. Her heart is a red bird hiding, watchful and silent, in the underbrush. It is brilliant. It is built for flight.

She unbuttons the top button of his shirt - fingers stinging and shaking from the shock of his bare skin. She strokes the place just below the hollow of his throat. She worships this diamond of skin. She is prostrate before it, she is breathless, she is light headed, she is bright. It is sacred, it is volcanic, it is ravishing, it is right. It is the only part of him she will ever have.

She closes her eyes, holds her breath, counts to ten. She opens her eyes. She is alone.