Paper-thin scales

Over reticulating muscle

Glove-like oneness

Liquid skin

Through a finish line

Seven times a calling

To the maker and way

Of the dreams dreamers dream

Pushed through to rejoicing

Framed in refreshing rain

Culled from a season

Of eerie bleak and dull

That crawled

But didn’t kill

Leading me now

To know

I do trust

The smirk