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title
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

Marybeth Rua-Larsen


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Not Swimming but Floating

How elegant his strokes, the butterfly,
the freestyle, trudgen, where swimming on his side
and scissor kicks propel him forward, but I
prefer to float, my body buoyed for a ride
to nowhere, where staring at a rippled sky
and watching all its iterations pairs
simplicity with magic- a puffy walleye
morphs into a crooked flight of stairs.
It's even better when my eyes are closed:
you teaching me to dig for clams will drift
to catching minnows with our hands, transposed,
again, with memories that rise and shift,
and it's the only way we bottle thunder,
a moment's breath before we're pulled back under.