A dragon,
huge and graceful, her gem-scales interlocking armor over her fine muscles, great wings unfolding, eyes like the fire of her belly,
renting a small apartment with some friends, her horde mostly books and saved postcards.
She is a field of blue flowers, petalled heads nodding in the clear mountain breeze,
walking next to me in a rainy city.
She is the ocean, touching every shore, unimaginable and answering to no one but the moon,
driving home tired down the freeway.
She is a secret room full of books; her shelves from floor to vaulted ceiling.
She is a selkie leaving her fur pelt on my couch.

And I am a bird, held to her chest, enveloped by her heartbeat.