Moving (Iv) Poem by Jacqui Thewless

Moving (Iv)



With each extra year,
the heel-treads sink
deeper in sand, in mud:
weight, unimaginable

as my self. I open
poetry books as slim as every one of them is.
Spiritual
whale, swallowed whole,
inverted Jonah, I

read only a single poem's five
brief lines and slip,
naked as the familiar sea,
into me.

Tuesday, March 1, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: poetry
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