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Jeanne Emrich
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Like a Seal Woman
almost winter . . . like a seal woman I want to slip out of my skin and call myself "she" a blur becomes an eagle above frozen ground– in my dream images of open water of a child waiting an ambulance arrives in winter darkness– I try to remember what was sworn to me by grasses, by clouds snow softly filling the meditation walk . . . soon every dead end will be just another way to somewhere else refusing the clift's invitation I wait with arms open for a swirl of snowflakes to lift me maybe it's too late– like a mammoth of the permafrost this woman wandering into the snow
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