She was made of winter dew
melting on the gra**
and poppies painting fields
of orange in the green
the places where we were
made up unmade up
Warwick Slade and Lucy Hill.
Catching hold of stars
between thumb and forefinger
gathering the tall trees
the shadow clouds and breeze.
Then one day I fell asleep
and when I woke up she was gone.
The title is from Benoite Groult's description
of lovemaking in ‘Salt on our Skin.'As with
much of this album, it's about Kathy.