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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

ROWING IN FAMILIAR JANUARY, by                    
First Line: I knew him as a friend: married. She was older


I knew him as a friend: married. She was older
had a little hotel in Macerata,
he was open in the whitest fissure. In the letter
he spoke of filters to measure the blood
in winter. I remember the dirty cellophane,
the hand behind the glass. An alphabet creaks
hidden among the smooth overturned keels and
the photo-I.D. There is a love greater
than you and me, me and you in the species,
water over water.


Used by permission of Story Line Press.




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