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  • Gary Hunter

The Lake - Jan. 21, 2022

I arrive here in daydreams to sit in our boat

that drifts to the end of the rope and back

like morning's lazy scent and creaks

as we steal kisses before the moment

you slipped and pierced the mirrored surface

your shocked expression disappearing

into the darkness too late I reached

and watched the last of the rising bubbles

two days later they find your face frozen

in surprise that questioning look at fate

I only come to this place

when there is a break

in the clouds still hoping

a shadow of you

might hook onto my fingers

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