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Alex Rae
Poems
Mar 2012
Summer 03
We waded against sunwet grass in August
across the road they exhumed Norman ruins.
Shovels clattered heavy in the turns of a grey birdsoft evening.
An old well plumped in the garden, of string and wax
we made a vessel to lower against its echobrightened
depths.
To win a flash of water sparking bright
in shattered French sailor's sunlight.
Written by
Alex Rae
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