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Like thumbs, at first, testing the water.

Swimming so fluently

that they are pencil lines,

flexing and rolling. Puppyish,

although the water is as black

and hard as anthracite.

The hills kneading their knuckles

and the eerie silver of the light,

the cold waves seemingly indifferent

and whales, resisting me: nothing but whale.

Published in Alba magazine. Published in A Brief and Biased History of Love.


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