Skywater Manahil Bandukwala I am you in your jewel-domed reading room, I am you in your kayak skimming. — Phyllis Webb The sky was inverted. I called you in the bare yellow night. I am you against the river of clouds, I am you in an energy current shaking down the kitchen walls, you in the contrapuntal stream of two trees racing vertically away from the earth. The sea was inverted. The sun inverted. The boulders, electrons, all organic matter. I called you from the land that is now the sea. There is no becoming; I always was. Now all events are kisses, a softness in the morning before clarity settles in. You in the exhalations that clear out the day’s old dust, you, large enough to hold the sun. The vapour of knowing might be lost, the dream we never woke from. You, I am floating in saltwater in our sea that was once land. Originally published as “I love you, kiss me,” Plenitude, 2022