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Gaps He stands on one She above the snow-line On another Cold feet, cold lips, Hands drowning the air He sees her movements And she his. And each sees Their own in Perfect transparency Lost in transition She feels his eyes through Her breast. Yet over This cold gulf Intricacies become Interstices, icily dumb He shrinks to rock She sinks to the wind And the faint Tongue of sound His bridge to the image Of her © David Incoll 2001 |
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Copyright by David Incoll 2001 |