Maybe legs part because the Red Sea really didn't

and we need confirmation that there is indeed a path to bliss. All legs are designed to reach the ground, hers just take longer to get there. Crossed legs are my crucifix and that's me hanging there. I'm the one with the beatific expression, coordinating my breathing with the dangle of a pump so as not to cause it to slip completely away. I want the dangling. For now anyway. My breathing will have a different cadence when it drops, after the catch. A long black dress is a promise I want kept and I adore the sound it makes when it slithers to the floor. The still life photo in my mind shows it catching the soft light in all its slinky bunched crumpling at her feet. She is all the glory I need.