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Wolf Lake, white gown blown open

no wind, no dust of summer moths, no weeping.

for instance

meat, heart, memory.

The boat was the green of naiveté,
the oars mismatched,

catching everything
and releasing nothing?


and the lapping sound of water,
like a dog compelled to lick itself.

Lake infested with black swans,
beaks breaking the surface tension
of the water

then pulling out, swallowing down
a writhing fish, another,



lake the color of the groom's Italian leather shoes.

and beneath us snail shells burst
like the skulls of the dead in the crematorium.


and ghosts, laced and corseted, dragging
their anchors and sinkers and veils.

Diane Seuss

Wolf Lake, White Gown Blown Open
University of Massachusetts Press

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