You tilted back your head to show me
the blanched streaks on your neck pushing against the forest
of your chin
and the wayward white bristles you insist on plucking out.
“There was no gray,” you said, “before I fell.”
I came to find these white spots cover your body,
along the small of your back and across the softness of your lower abdomen
where your clothes had billowed in the frigid water.
