the way a mountain
and the ocean
look similar
blue, breaking
my face is
no face
what dissapears
in the mirror there
my hand on wood -- bureau, brush
handle, spoon
when you asked me
if the water was always so blue
you heart
beating was your mouth
moving
the double-crested's singing happens
in gestures, backwards
zig-zagged shadow the flickering
script, amissed blinking
shutters on bone-flutters
a slough through, thickets
where the tubes entered
and carried you away
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