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number 55
P O E T R Y by Ellen Wehle |
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| Honeymoon Remote, godlike, winging above the thousand-eyed ocean, we cross a night sky of gold-- ablaze at the world's rim with a lava glow. Champagne overflows. Flight attendants hover over 13F in her saffron sari, eyes wide with panic; no matter who fears change, we will not stop. Streaming vapor past my window the wizard jets hiss This is your life, pick the lock. |