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I swam in on the high tide and skinned my shin on the breaker wall. I fought through the swamp to get to you, through slippery roots and maroon vines that twisted up around my legs like fresh henna thigh tattoos.   Sometimes now I sleepw...

I swam in on the high tide

and skinned my shin on the breaker wall.

I fought through the swamp

to get to you,

through slippery roots and maroon vines

that twisted up around my legs

like fresh henna thigh tattoos.

 

Sometimes now I sleepwalk—

with the feel of mud between my toes

and under my fingernails,

wearing earrings that are too heavy—

made of fishnets

and green glass floats.

 

 

While you sleep

I pull up the edges of the dead carpet

in our apartment home

and with white stones

and black sticks of mulch

that I found in the parking lot,

I draw on the floor—

pictures of us on a boat.

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