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  • Alanna Duffield

Delta.

In the delta, I see the dead, As I left them, or rather, they left me. In the curved spine of the river they sit, A casual toe in the current. And yet, in the past, they gather On the side where I cannot reach them. On the bank where the muck leaves no trace, Where on me, it coats the skin.


In the delta is where it all ends, where the liquid path has led to. Beyond the beach they understand What goes on. And on. And on. They see beyond the horizon, They see through the weeds and silt. A clarity that comes with crossing That short, irreversible swim.


In the delta the water is warm And the sun is gold leaf on the surface. From our separate sides the glare Makes us radiant all the same. And the rocks from Virginia’s pockets Are nothing but sand to her now As she sprawls out in the long grass That was once so hard to walk through.


At the delta, we face the rest On the edge of the earth and existence. And the mist that covers the distance Transcends all these living things. In this place is where I find them, Where the river spreads into the sea. At the bottom of the glistening sieve What was lost comes back to me.


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