This is what I remember of life:
the glans of a penis, smooth as an acorn,
split like a cat’s eye with a vertical pupil.
Weeping pearly tears.
On a salmonberry, the swollen drupelets
quilting its surface with peachy clitorises.
Words like frogs, their sudden leaps
and pulsing, thin-skinned bodies.
The singing when we stopped to listen.