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This poem is taken from PN Review 211, Volume 39 Number 5, May - June 2013.

'wind' and Other Poems Sarah Broom

and then my skull was empty
and a dark wind blew through it,

a wind that smelt
of great distances and darknesses,
of waves rearing up in black water,
vast seabeds flung open,

of stars that cried like old men
as they were blown headlong
into the unfurling, tender
rim of the universe,

of arcs of birds
swept from ocean to ocean,
wings slack
with terror and pleasure

and I could not decide
whether the wind itself was warm

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