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New Wave: Post Op

Such an adrenaline rush to find
              myself alive
this seventh time, injected
              with glee on the stretcher,
making my usual "Iím o.k." calls,

and thinking Iíd heard the surgeonsí banter
              as I struggled to swim back up
to the light and cold,
              their talk about a French film
recently revived,

but I couldnít know for sure
              because I was a body freeze-framed,
halted in black and white
              on the grainy sand
of a beach like Antoine Doinel
              trying to flee those 400 blows.

Maria Terrone

The Common

Issue 14

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