I

She comes to me arrow straight
she is arrow straight and then
she curls.

II

All of the unrest
of my skin is carried
in her mouth, the
incisor pinch and
tear, the spotted
tongue and all
its small questions.

III

There is nothing
she won’t swear
leaning in to me
with the soft of 
her chin and her
open door eyes.

IV

When I move she moves,
following ahead, looking 
back now and then to 
check her compass which 
is me. And there we are.