This is Not a Love Poem, or: So, Jill Says to Jack

When you told me
take this pail
I drank the water
carried myself up the hill.

When you demanded glue
I roiled my insides
pieced your crown
together with bits of sticky flesh.

I am not afraid to fall,
even without you beneath me.
The higher the hill, the more
sky to swallow on the way down.

When we are mostly water
what is there to do but swim?

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This is a letter poem in response to Carolee's Systole. Thank you Carolee, for inspiring me to finally write a poem.