is silk, a simple shift, cut to the knee and graded from first-dawn blue at the shoulders to clay brown at the hem. It's printed with dragonflies, irises and bulrushes. At the waistline, water begins, deepening to the hem. When I smooth my skirt, there are droplets on my palms. Leaves fall onto my shoulders, land in the water and turn skeletal as they sink. Fish and frogs swim, and water snails bend stems of starweed and crowfoot. Dragonfly nymphs climb stalks that grow against my thighs. They dry themselves beside my ribs, test their wings, take their first flights. Sometimes, if I lift a hand, one rests there a while. It's studded with emeralds.