Or was it that one hot day? When the sun liquefied into a molten light. We were wading through a river. An eagle loosened a feather. I wore a red silk sari in preparation for Kama Sutra. The water was cool against our ankles. Velvet air scarfed around bared napes. Where the river bended, I knew you would take me away from water. You wanted to be the one to teach me how: within fever, dancers hurl their bodies fearlessly courting the fall. Within fever, there exists no compromise.