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This poem is taken from PN Review 259, Volume 47 Number 5, May - June 2021.

Poems Tom Pickard
provision

a stealthy heron
stalks a sinking sun

while waders skim the waterline
to follow and feed

and all I bring
is a pen that sometimes

spells your name
in a lick of ink along a line

of tides swept in under mind
and over sand

flipping lacy hems:
a seductress sea

certain of its goal
buffed up against gusts

that take us back to where
we never were
...


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