The unlocked body, my own
dark garment thrown-off curved like
hip bone but sharper.
Every year the stones thrown
farther, without aim hits any target
harder like a cruel game.
This shore, its hoary shelf,
lightless room without a bearing wall
calls and calls my name
in a moment like cyanide
infects the vein, disappears in smoke
and still I hear it calling
"Rachel, Rachel".
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