Cheryl Snell | The 2River View, 7.3 (Spring 2003) |
Epithalamion
Your voice pooled around my common senses. A pulse jumped under my blue-veined skin. At the rehearsal, Mother in her flatline calm We sat there glumly, holding back her hands. Before this devolves into a narrative of hindsight— Right beside the rigid Mary. Right under your lucky dice. |
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2River |