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Ann Beaver
Poems
Jul 2013
Distortion
Sinking
To a familiar imprint in the sand
Salt traffic jams
Shark teeth and flared nostrils
Fingers numb
Curled around the trigger
Cannot let go.
But through the noise
Ripples
Quadratic equations
I see a blurred sunset
It feels like the day we first met.
Written by
Ann Beaver
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