Easily spooked, she thought she heard
A baby scream. And since there wasn’t
A baby near, she thought that it must be
The ghost of a baby.
I’ll bet it was cats.
Their voices when they’re looking for sex
There’s our tom cat now.
He’s sliding across the pitch of a roof
Like a skiff enjoying enormous waves.
Early spring and the leaves are little.
I went down into the caves with her,
The water icy in spite of our wet suits,
Thinking about the hour I’d spent
With my tongue in her vulva.
The screechy voices, the little leaves.