Green were the waves on the Zambezi bouncing our rubber raft, close to the sharp cliffs, then far, high out of the water, the waves they called the angry sisters, the washing machine, the raft dipped its nose into the green river, the knowing of skullclanking rock. First the gasping for a way out from beneath, my hand searching for air, bumping raft, then raft again—then that sinking feeling—the green calm of the heart's unclutch, green like the ribbons of seaweed waving, locks of a woman's hair. Green—the pat pat of the last beats before the heart's submission, then the release—that melody beneath the water, the letting go—that music, green.