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tide pools

there
were
moments

lazing in our grand isle

eating
unfamiliar berries

drinking unlikely wine

oh

the impossible conversations

they are still blushing

a thousand pages past

todays now
full of
unmailed letters

edna pontellier
to your
nobler
robert lebrun
you hide
within
my structure

boarding house

sketches
and
lines

we return to our ocean

the sand envelopes

our bare feet

regret rises up between toes

shells broken scattered washed

run together in saltwater finger paint

to form pictures of us within tide pools

it will all be taken in by the surf

we are no good

at being cold and wet

let us shed these damp things

we

swim

out

together

awakenings

need

not

be

fatal

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