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Ann Beaver
Poems
May 2013
I Don't Really Like the Beach
I ran into the ocean
One night.
The stars shot me with bullets
Of relief.
The waves licked my ankles
Knees
Thighs
Up my body, cold and gentle,
Finally sealing my lungs
With salt
And the memory
Of how you wouldn't lay next to me.
Written by
Ann Beaver
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