By Dean Rader

Black bell, ring the blue boat
of my bones back to the beach
of this world, make me an ear
so that I might hear the sound

from the deepest, make me
a mouth—don’t let me drown—
don’t let me sink the way lives
sink, the way the dead drop into
the endless hum of the end
as when the wind rends the rake—
make me bend the way notes bend,
the way waves blend into the long
crash of the last song, the way
the body bows to the blur of sea and air.

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