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Under Water

ISSUE:  Summer 1999

The sea wants to enter the house:
finding its way inside with sand
behind our ears, salt lingering
on our skin. We lock the doors,
latch windows, draw curtains to a close
and still the roar permeates these walls.
In our dreams, the rush and pull,
the swell and din, crashes in.
When we wake, we are submerged again.
No brooms, dust cloths or mops
suffice to send it out. The sea
enters our house and will not leave;
will not let us forget
the trip and fall of our breath.


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