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.

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