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River of Luster & Saw

Carolyn Guinzio

And when we got there we saw
the ever sleek greens in a light
that had been gone for a quarter
of a year, your skin glowing.

Light falls a certain way
on the aftermath of things, or,
your eyes are still wildly trying
to stop in the center

of two extremes, the body
in the bath. I have not forgotten
that there was a you there, an I.
The terrain made it possible,

traveling voices, faraway
sounds up next to the ear,
voices spiraling into the shell,
sleeping on the floor in a bent

sliver of light. You were pulling
the weeds away from your ankles,
wanting to be the first to be
immune under the moon.

The magnetic mineral glimmering
river will sever the not from salt
for us all. You can not be,
but you can’t not have been.

Carolyn Guinzio

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