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This poem is taken from PN Review 240, Volume 44 Number 4, March - April 2018.

Steeped Judy Brown

We are swimming through strong brown.
All light has turned to tea, a mild infusion.
Warm grey curls off the paintwork.
Our actual ankles are ankle-deep in soft shadow.

The windows are curtains of dry rain
which drop like dirty waterfalls from their frames.
Each object is outlined with a cushion of shadow.

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