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  • And one of my own for good measure.

    In Christ Church Meadows by tomasito

    Finally we got around
    to talking things through
    and were close to reaching
    some kind of understanding
    when an eight emerged
    from over her shoulder,
    clawing the Isis
    like a grappling stick insect,
    and in that moment of distraction
    everything left to say
    was suddenly said -
    by the traction of oars
    that sent coots scuttling;
    by the slap of a palm
    against its reflection.

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