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Ann Beaver
Poems
Aug 2014
Dead Fish
I often wish
to feel not as a dead fish
flipping and flopping
on your dashboard
on your sharp sword
on, around, between.
I often think
I feel a sense of this
which is really that,
lovely like the space
between the molecules of your face.
I often stare
to feel between the lines
swimming and swerving
When is "I'm tired"
"I'm tired"
and when is it "I'm tired of you."
Written by
Ann Beaver
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