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Cover: ‘Lake George’ John Bunyan Bristol Courtesy National Gallery of Art, Washington
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1. Wind-shaped ice curves the shore, crusts sedge edges in the marsh. Each footfall a crunch, and I think of shrews’ subnivean tunnels, my boots sink in mud I don’t see.
2, Why am I surprised at sunrise? The unexpected color appears in the west, blush on still-dark clouds opposite first flashing; in any room, light falls on you.
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5.
I name myself unmoored, not just a boat that’s slipped the dock, but grounded in drought-lake mudflat. Even if water rushed, how could I be anything but sunk, habitat for skittish fish, hazard on which to catch a lure and snap a line. Love, this morning, I can’t tell who is the boat, the dock, the flat, Who is casting the bait, but I see the clove hitch slipped, lost. I’m not sure where I am.
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Jennifer Browne © 2024
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