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By Catherine Owen

Rain & I don’t want you to see me


Rain & I don’t want you to see me – I have no

            face in the morning – throughout the day it slowly

grows back but first thing I am only

eyes – for gulls, mainly, other shore birds – and the water, heart-grey –

            so much mist the bridge is gone, the mountains – I can’t give

as much to you as I gave to him – the ache isn’t in me –

but I want you to know that’s healthier – perhaps – an excess of detritus

            on the beach I feel nostalgic for – as if this is now the original condition

to preserve – no Eden to compare with, no old growth pristine – the world

rough n tumble now, mostly – gutted – but here & there still the prettiest

            wildflowers – you have to remember this in the time of mud – no

the downpour doesn’t stop & by noon, to reassure you – I grow a mouth.