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October 2013, vol 8, no 3

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Jennifer Juneau


I swim through ocean grass with the flexibility of a starfish. The water is brackish and pale green. I scrounge the seafloor of bronze-colored dust. Fetid scent of crustaceans, rotten fish. If I shut myself inside a shell, I could listen to the chatter of pearls. Somnolent I am, alone in my dreams until

A smooth aqua pool
Tranquil at dawn
Is broken by ship sail

I rise to the surface. I drape myself in nourishing and warm terrycloth . In the red heat mosquitoes fester somewhere off shore.

Palm tree fronds
In balmy wind
Wake in the distance