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April 1, 2012 vol 8 no 1

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Marjorie A. Buettner


Ophelia at Last

In my dream I am floating out to sea: blue sky meeting the blue of the ocean while the tide washes over me and sweeps me away. My arms outstretched, I am suddenly surrounded by a tangle of lily pad vines. They float around me like a wreath thrown in remembrance of the dead. I seem not to care that my arms have become their arms, my hair, their hair: white lily pads encircle me, cover me over; Ophelia at last, my body disappears and I become something other than myself.

white on white –
blinded by the morning sun
over snow




crane