for Nina & Tara

At the river's swollen joint
we dive in, suddenly light
and jointless as our six feet
mix the warmed crust
of water with the icy below.

The frangipani behind my ear
is presumed drowned
until it resurfaces between us
as a beautiful relic.
Matchstick-sized skinks

dart at our every scream
as if powered by sound.
Bumblebees hover to drink
from our hair and crown us
with their impossible flight.

Unserious Sirens, we swirl
like blood drops in water
then float, flush against sky,
meniscus breasts bobbing
with pelvises: roses-of-bone.