What the waters wants is hurricanes,
and sailboats to ride on its back.
What the water wants is sun kiss,
and land to run into and back.

I have a fish stone burning my elbow
reminding me to know that I'm glad
that I have a bottle filled with my own teeth.
They fell out like a tear in the bag.

And I have a sister somwhere in Detroit.
She has black hair and small hands.
And I have a kettle drum.
I'll hit the earth with you.

And I will crochet you a hat.
And I have a red kite;
I'll put you right in it.
I'll show you the sky.