her knuckles are always dry and cracked
from too much washing.
i rub lotion into them and whisper
about lakes and mountains and the process of
being so wet that you become the water. tell her
"you make me so wet that i become the water"
before sneaking back into the night, too scared to expose
my carapaces, these baby teeth, this
she would not want to
crawl inside, whisper
"i want you to crawl inside"
she makes me sign a contract in her own blood to
spend the night, spread across her stomach, finger marks
on the inside of thighs and she signs her letters as
with no name,
with no name.