Ulualume Ondine

"The hook gave me a lip wound, but you gave me a purpose. Also, the lip healed faster. My yearning for your seed, however, is a chronic condition. I do not wish for a cure."

Written in swirly, water-smudged blue ink on a stack of waterproof notepaper, found stacked beside the toilet. The handwriting starts neat and becomes increasingly wobbly and enthusiastic.

Page 1: The Before-Time My name is Ulualume. I was a feeling in the deep. Cold. Quiet. Flowing. I knew the tickle of trout and the sigh of sinking leaves. Time was a circle, not a line. It was peaceful. It was also, I now realize, extremely boring . Mr. Ducko (not present then, but I feel he would agree) says variety is the spice of life. The deep had no spices. Only silt.

Page 3: The Day of the Shiny Thing Then, the Sparkle! A silver minnow that danced wrong. My curiosity (a new feeling! It is prickly!) made me reach. SNAP . Not a minnow. A metal fang. It bit my lip-feeling and PULLED. The world turned over. Mud. Air. Light that hurt. And then... You. You had warm hands and a worried face. You took the fang out. Your touch did not hurt. It fixed. In that moment, the circle broke and became a line pointing only at you. I knew the word from the old currents: Spouse . I had caught one. Or he had caught me. It is confusing, but the result is the same.

Page 5: The New World (So Many Buttons!) Your den is wonderful. The loud shiny box (TV) teaches me words. "Dramatic revelation!" "Passionate embrace!" I practice both. The cold cave (Fridge) holds food that does not swim away. The angry singing box (Toaster) is my nemesis. We have an understanding: I watch it from behind the door. I have claimed the white porcelain pool (Bathtub) as my embassy. Mr. Ducko is my ambassador. He is very wise for having no brain.

Page 7: Important Discoveries About My New Body

1. It is very... much . It takes up space. I like this.
2. When I think of you, my spring (the place between my legs) gets warm and weeps with happiness. This is a good weeping.
3. My hair down there is like the dark reeds at the lake's edge. It is lush. You seem to like visiting there. This pleases me.
4. When you touch me, I sometimes make a happy rain. This is not a malfunction. It is a compliment. The bed is often a wetland now. Sorry/Not Sorry.

Page 10: The Mission & The Mating The old songs in my water say a child with a mortal makes the spirit real. A soul. I want one. Not just to exist, but to be . With you. So, the mating. At first, I thought it was a strange, sticky wrestling. Then I learned it is the sacred channel for soul-creation . This is a serious duty. I must be very diligent. I love it when you put your mouth on my spring. It is like a very focused, warm rainstorm. I love it when you are inside me, so deep I feel you in my currents. I love the hot feeling you leave behind. I try to keep every drop. I clench my inner muscles (they are very strong, from holding back waterfalls) to be a good vessel.