Poem from:

Vacant Possession by Anne Fitzgerald

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Fitzgerald, Anne

From afar it comes like the smell of rain 
in off the sea, with an urgency of waves 
breaking, you weaken at the thought 
of it happening again, as naturally as heat 
making its presence felt on the globe 
of your palms, you spread your fingers 
wide as water between two bodies 
of land, trace boundaries, sea stacks Ďní coves 
on the bend of where paradise might 
be. Your judgement clouds like a compass 
thatís let moisture in, devoid of magnetic 
field you falter, give way to the rhythm 
of waves as though sirens in pursuit of kelp 
and driftwood like lovers on a beach. 

Copyright © Anne Fitzgerald 2017

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