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Magazine
Summer/Fall 2002


Poetry by Kyle Nickel


Thirsty

Spiderlike on a rock quarry wall,
recovering from
water and gravity and futile attempts at flight,
I pause.

From there you appear human:
head torso limbs and all the rest.

Below this perch,
on sand,
where water runs
                        off of shoulder
                                    to your clavical
                        and through
                                    the
                        gauntlet
                                    of
                                    your
                                    breast,

there we are not human,
only animal,
returned to the water to drink.

 

 

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