she takes her five fingers
and presses them
gently
against the back of his neck
as the world
retreats
to its desert home
to its cave of a bed and birthplace

directing every single move
she reaches in
deeper
to his skull
and pulls his strings
and ties them
to her five fingers

now,
cornered
without thought or interruption
without sleep
and understanding
the boy quivers
his heart shutters
and his hands both shake
with the motion

he reaches out
to her hair
and breathes in the sweet
smell of summer rain