Everyone else was standing proper, but we
lay on the tile, holding hands, gut-humming,
and speaking for myself, I was overwhelmed
by vibrating in my womb ringing out like
a flat rock skipped along the length of me.
Then, fingers crushed by death grip, breath
holding, the weight of clouds pressed down,
a kaleidoscope of greys like salt water
cotton candy, heavy with the sighs of ages,
swirling in the sides of our eyes, between
and along, isolating yet forcing us closer.
I could not speak, but only measured moments
by the pumping, the endless pushing around
and in, then out and back again, ad nauseam.
Sideways glance, your wink back; thus our
plan cemented, now escape! Light to the sky.