She lets go
in three ways,
and in the wake
of this small miracle,
they leave the water.
They become
hunter-gatherers.
He hands her
something red
and tells her
the story
of a woman
who was
gathering stones
a week ago
and they caught fire
in her pocket.
The sun is
just right
above them.
The sheep-shorn moon
is above them
in the blue sky.
Both are.
The prevalence
of the whites
of the gulls
around the moon
makes the moon float.
The woman feels
like a nucleus,
joyously small.