Photograph by Jon Flobrant

I was dreaming of three forks in the river.
Between us, there are eight names,
so our daughter will have
the longest name in history,
the same name as this river.

I have loved everyone
with such an embarrassing grip, even
through the night. When I woke I felt we
had been braided, our muscles swept together
by the rushing pace of the watershed that chose us.
I leaned over in my sleep and kissed his left wing.