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July 2017, vol 13 no 2

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Pam Davenport

This Day

Is slow and spare. One boat each hour, two solitary shell seekers. Green water, turquoise water, blue, green, turquoise, blue. Blue, blue, blue. One dead seagull. Two days ago in bed I looked down and saw my naked body as it once was, tan lines where my bikini barely covered my breasts pointing to the ceiling, my concave stomach above a white hip band.

golden head turning
bougainvillea arms
lash scorched tiles