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You shrugged off the raiment of the living
         and I knew I would forget you,
                   the way all the dead are forgotten,
         becoming an archipelago
reconstructed in dream.

And so it was your name in our mouths
         became a prayer uttered
                   in a strange tongue, a snake
         swallowing its own tail, an island circled
by a ship without port.

And so it was the mountains
         came down to meet the sea
                   and grew wings. And your going
         tore green from every leaf of every tree.
And the sun could find no habitation.

Shara McCallum

Alice James Books

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