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Saturday, December 24, 2011

From 'The Woman who turns Herself into a Fish', Eavan Boland

a pale
swimmer,
sequin-skinned,
pearling eggs
screamlessly 
in seaweed.
It's what
I set my heart on.
Yet
ruddering
and muscling
in the sunless tons
of new freedoms,
still
I feel
a chill pull,
a brightening ,
a light, a light,
and how
in my loomy cold,
my greens,
still
she moons
in me.

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