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Page 104

SARAH GRIDLEY

So Far Out Light lipped off the mirror’s leafy border. The flower arrangement fell apart. The dog was chewing a rosary with a patience too gentle to mind. The careful bubble of the spirit level split and split. Could the rose say what the summer lightning said. Who doesn’t fail. Who doesn’t fail at this. I dreamed, I woke, I rose. At dawn, a bliss of silver on my neighbor’s pond.

POETRY | 95

Profile for phoebe

49.1  

Fiction, poetry, creative nonfiction, and art selected for phoebe's 49.1 issue.

49.1  

Fiction, poetry, creative nonfiction, and art selected for phoebe's 49.1 issue.

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