Bivalve women,
You gave me bones
And twisted this from
Sally-rods & withy. Fishers
Of men. Proud hips and
Bellies swallow us, belie a
Fictive swarm, the sunlit
World before, trees,
Shore and seas, the islands
Into sky. Thin vision-tissue, gently
Torn – that lighthouse, and the glare
Off sleek and swollen
Waves, white light of empty God
Behind the scene.
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