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Night isn’t something like trouble,

she thinks during the morning.

 

a puff of smoke becomes double

as the fishermen’s scorning.

Her walk ends at the edge,

not being tied and receiving warning.

A step leading over the ledge

and her feet are like statues

eternal posing for the dredge

of commerce and unclear views

She dives into ancient rubble

and regret and societal issues.

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