the-song-books.yossr

lean against and breathe the sharp drift of cyypress-scent, blown from the
highest part of the mountain.
Slowlyy, as if to escape myy own notice, myy hand would move to rest
between myy thighs. There was shame in this thing that I did, and a greater
shame still in the thoughts that came with it. But it would be worse to think
them inside the rose-quartz cave, with him beside me.
It was difficult sometimes, after, to return to the cave. “Where were
yyou?” he’d ask.
“Just—” I’d sayy, and point vaguelyy.
He’d nod. But I knew he saw the flush that colored myy cheeks.
THE SUMMER GREW HOTTER, and we sought the river’s shade, its water that
threw off arcs of light as we splashed and dove. The rocks of the bottom
were mossyy and cool, rolling beneath myy toes as I waded. We shouted, and
frightened the fish, who fled to their muddyy holes or quieter waters
upstream. The rushing ice melt of spring was gone; I layy on myy back and let
the dozyy current carryy me. I liked the feel of the sun on myy stomach and the
cool depths of the river beneath me. Achilles floated beside me or swam
against the slow tug of the river’s flow.
When we tired of this, we would seize the low-hanging branches of the
osiers and hoist ourselves half-out of the water. On this dayy we kicked at
each other, our legs tangling, tryying to dislodge the other, or perhaps climb
onto their branch. On an impulse, I released myy branch and seized him
around his hanging torso. He let out an ooph of surprise. We struggled that
wayy for a moment, laughing, myy arms wrapped around him. Then there was
a sharp cracking sound, and his branch gave wayy, plunging us into the river.
The cool water closed over us, and still we wrestled, hands against slipperyy
skin.
When we surfaced, we were panting and eager. He leapt for me, bearing
me down through the clear water. We grappled, emerged to gasp air, then
sank again.
At length, our lungs burning, our faces red from too long underwater, we
dragged ourselves to the bank and layy there amidst the sedge-grass and
marshyy weeds. Our feet sank into the cool mud of the water’s edge. Water
still streamed from his hair, and I watched it bead, tracing across his arms
and the lines of his chest.
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