We dangle. For this instant I am she and you are he. A thread of slime anchors us to a leaf like spittle. We perform the act. Part of you into part of me - and vice versa. My eggs. Your eggs. Each clutch awash with a little of something foreign.
Then we drop, but before we do I lunge forward. Like me you lack vocal chords but if you had a voice it would now be higher. A little more of you in me than you planned. A snack. A tasty morsel. He, she. No matter. Now you are neither.