You visit me in the moment of waking
With a syringe full of river water.

If the river God is in my veins
His burning is colossal and ferocious.

I hear ten thousand women singing a song
I know I’ve heard but cannot name.

You have the face of a hundred spiders.
Your furry arms glisten and tremble.

You guide my hand to your leg,
And as you dig your nails into my chest

The sound of wings roars from your mouth,
A dam breaks in some infernal region,

The clock hands spin backwards,
And moths pour in through the air vents.

The way to the river is clear,
And the way to the heart is its compass.