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Sunday, July 29, 2018

Spring Break-up

the twelve-foot cedar strip
                      belongs to the headman
the assignment challenged the wind
                  funnelling up the river
      following the boys I entered the tunnel
seated as a sail
                   of cotton, denim and wool
around and around
                               and over
grab the keel
grab again
blood slows and
                        pictures of summer dances,
report cards and roast beef
                                           on my screen
as the light in the projector
                             f l i c k e r s
the sound stops
                    and death reaches out
                                  to take me in
not counting on the vial
                of hidden adrenalin…
a side-stroke and the head’s canoe
                                       floats ashore
with my capsized ego.

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