sun playing between
kelly green leaves;
cold river rushing between
skin scraping sharp
my feet plunging deep between
slick and wet, under the current
nipping at me as I slide stuck between
limbs entrenched in muddied water;
sharp shallow breaths,
their skin on skin slipping smooth between
water and rocks and me and breathing,
sucking me in deeper, blowing breeze cool between
my sun-hot face
and . . .
my young son says,
"Those people are naked. Thank god we're upstream from his sperm"
"Thank God," I gasp.
My legs are bleeding.