our fingers dipped into the surface of the water
like tree branches skimming a stretch of sky.
the ground was pulsating under our feet
but the river was still and we entered it.
and i thought we wouldn't leave.
we could harvest the spears of sunlight
piercing the depths - with them,
we'd catch fish and occasionally
dolphins, with which we would sustain ourselves.
i saw the flesh between our fingers stretch into webbing,
and our toes flattened; our necks opened into gills.
after the first week we didn't want to go back,
and we developed a fear of the horizon under which we hid.
i had been mistaken.
we didn't intend to leave, but after a few minutes underwater
our mouths opened; we breathed in.
and the river wouldn't let us stay like that.
it spit us out on the opposite bank.
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