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The Airy World


You've begun to breathe, brimming your lungs
with my small sea: practice
for the true thing, the first tug

of air into your slick, cresting body.
Even now, you might survive
if pushed from the deep.

With each false breath, you are drifting closer
to the airy world, this place where we'll touch
but forever be parted, and parting.


Anemone Beaulier

The Southern Review

Winter 2012


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