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This poem is taken from PN Review 275, Volume 50 Number 3, January - February 2024.

Two Poems Felicity Sheehy
Turning Thirty

No alarm wakes me. I sleep in late.
I am late
for the lark’s urgent whistle,
the paper’s
skittery print. Another day
in the heat.
I pull berries from long stalks,
eat in the field,
walk to the lake in cut-off shorts,
unminded. No man
watches from the street. I feel full
in my body,
as I did as a girl, my hair dripping,
my legs unshaved,
no makeup veiling my face.
All day I swim
in the deep end, moving through
pools of light,
a dragonfly clipping the surface,

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