In the Flesh: In the Waves (1889)
Form in motion, no. 2

The red pelt is a palm against the neck. Below, hips spill into brine, bruised green. This body is unlike hers: an oily mammal thudding against the pulse. The spine held in a hinge of flesh, braced as the water tugs it away. Cold bites into the marrow of the breast. Muscle remembers itself in the grip of the legs. There is an end to all this. Limescale heaves against the stone of the ribs until the lungs peel off, pushed into the gate of the teeth. There is an end to this giving.

