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Tuesday 24 November 2009

This Poem Is Not About Caving

There's no point in opening my eyes.
The water, ankle level down here,
laps into my boots making my feet swell.
The walls inch toward my skin,
stone encasing me entirely.

Breath bounces back
off the walls in front.
The slim space far outweighs
any effect of touching;
pressing with absence.

My eyes might
even be open,
I just can't tell.

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