Gary McDowell Marriage And

Wooden slats and a woman and.

Here is where the ocean moves,


linen as host, as roost—limbs

poured through. Mercenary is what


water is. Hug the lampshade,

gather in fists the below her


skirt. Don’t be afraid—the walls

of this room wear moonlight and.


Even if you never never. The froth

made by hard rain stokes the miles


you walked to find me, the bridge

you crossed flecked with passers-by.


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