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Ann Beaver
Poems
Jan 2013
The Rope
I'm letting go
of the rope.
I'm going to watch
it slide
through the white satin sand
and sink into the water.
I'm going to memorize
the details
of the indentation it will make.
Then, I'm going to stop
building rafts
on the shore.
Then, I'll never have to watch
a sliding rope
mess up the sand
again.
Written by
Ann Beaver
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Nicole
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