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She leaned back 

on the boat’s thick metal rail;

it pushed into her skin like wide-set hands.


She said I wouldn’t know,

that she could tell.


I stared off at the water,

yellow gleam same

as the air. 


The light looks just the same

on windshields as it does

over the lake 


is what 

I should have said,


lonely, bright, and sparse.




E l i z a b e t h  M c M u n n - T e t a n g c o





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Issue 78

Variations on Absence

edited by Laura M. Kaminski






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