the women wet
the waterfront
with womb water
delivering twin coral children
whose ceilings
are fluid
and permutable.

he is one. i am the other.
brother and sister
who knew our selves
before brackishness
and the rift
caused by the damming
of the river.

she and i, twin occupiers
of our mother’s womb.
the hierarchy of birth order
mercurial
like gemini genes.

one stayed. the other went
-an absence that split the family
like a headache.

like choppy water
frothy and forthright
she spouts

destroying
the placidity of man
made emotion.

structurally unsound
deficient of reason
wet like a woman
she is fit
only for swallowing.

having grown to the depth
of a well
i could contain her
but don’t

having imbibed
and libated enough
to be at peace
i watch

she, whirling watery dervish
leaving in her wake
smashed houses
cars and broken glass
planes of an existence
thought permanent.