BY ANN LOVETT
sink
as if
stone
sounding for bottom-
less
above
swells and light
lift
drop
flutter-wind
wake
along the skinned
surface
no
matter
there is such
scintillate
silence
such
falling
so
is the body
made
salt-grit
spume
slammed
to ground
again
again
so
it is shorn
soundings
loosened
star-lidded
darkfall
gold
to ink
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