He and she take it in turns to row the boat with their arms,
eat raw fish, read moonlit maps, crush stars into milk, swallow storms.
They kiss dark nights and suck the strength of each other's breath,
feel the waves inside their bodies become foam before falling into sleep.
He dreams he does not exist and she sighs as if she knows tonight
is all fantasy. They are figments of their imagination, these nights, these boats.
Only the fish are real, they gleam.