
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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