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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