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Cave River

Alone, I left the visible world.

How hard my eyes pressed

but still no sight. Some things

abhor light and I almost

understand them growing

in their slime. I stayed

in darkness, stayed till

the winding sheet began to come

undone around me, all of me

loosening, separating, even

the pieces of my own spine

unhooked, and bits of me

floating off with the river—arm

ear  teeth—the cave a throat

swallowing me. Later, it spit me up,

thrust me out like a boat—

my body returning to me—light

that picked my pieces up

and made of me

what it could.

from Red DeerFind it in the library

Copyright © Persea Books 2015
Used with the permission of The Permissions Company, Inc.
on behalf of Persea Books.

Published in Anne Marie Macari Poems

This program is supported in part by a grant from the Idaho Humanities Council, a State-based program of the National Endowment for the Humanities.

Any views, findings, conclusions, or recommendations expressed in this (publication, website, exhibit, etc.) do not necessarily represent those of the Idaho Humanities Council or the National Endowment for the Humanities.

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