But here
where we share the morning fog
over the water
where water is a mountain and it is selected
where the soft mountain of
your body holds the hum of
headwaters north
two bodies of water
curling into one
spilling over state lines
here where we are soft with lines
as they fold north to south to west
the coordinates of the moon
bowing as yesterday
here the borders, selected as water
are soft as we trace
holy as we return