The long trip down the river,
Was stiffling and slow.
With every humid, heavy mile,
The air became closer.
Even the water lapping along
The wood of the boat,
Seemed to become thicker,
Molasses, pulling at the vessel.
Begging it to appreciate the beauty
Of the exotic surrounds,
Like the jungle itself
Was pleading for us to take it all in.

The heat swelled, until we became
Little, purposeful moments.
A hand on glistening collarbone.
A sharp rasp of breath.
A line of sweat, drawn away by finger
Across the temple and brought to mouth.
The shirt hastily unbuttoned,
To catch the slightest breeze
Allowed or provided,
Like a gentle exhale from lover's lips.
We became beautifully restless there,
In the still.
As the landscape around us
Pulled us in and held,
Enveloped us on all sides.
In that smothering,
We came to life.

From the leaves and hidden thickets,
Came the eyes of the watching creatures,
Gazing upon skin released,
Writhing limbs,
A kaleidoscope of flesh,
Spirally in a mix of colour and sound.
Instinctual cries echoed and reciprocated
From within the darkest depths,
Until the jungle itself
Screamed from the heart.

The craft had been freed from
Its daydream, matching the pace,
This primal urgency.
Until all was a blur of fever,
Breath, sweat, lips,
Bodies without an inch of separation.
For a second it felt the whole slick world,
Was a vein, pulsing
Taught, for the bursting.
The roar of water broke any hesitance left,
The landscape opened up,
As we too opened our selves to the sky,
Brilliant and blue.

We held our breath, gave ourselves
To the pouring cascade.
The desire to go over the fall,
To send our souls deep into the water,
To get lost in the reeds,
To become the jungle.
Afraid we may never return,
And planning not to.


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