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  • I miss June
    I miss the way June’s whispers would spill over me
    And dissolve into the night

    When the ice melts, the water meets the sky right in the middle
    She’d say
    It all becomes one
    She’d say
    We would climb into the boat and paddle towards it
    We’d paddle in circles
    Arguing
    About the direction of the tide
    And where the sky and water might converge
    After a while we’d row back emptied handed

    She would get so tired
    I would always carry her back onshore
    And we would fall asleep on the bank sometimes
    To the bull frogs and the blue herons skimming the river for bugs

    Those cool mornings brought mud larks
    Emerging
    Like fiddler crabs
    From the fog and onto the bank
    With their shovels and metal detecters
    We would wake
    Half naked and sprawling
    To the hum of their instruments
    Combing the wet black earth
    For relics enslaved to the mire
    And in time
    Long forgotten or
    Replaced by their owners

    June would sit up and straighten
    With her back to me
    Her spine a thin taut rope
    Just barely there
    My body would root itself to the ground
    While I surveyed her skin
    The way her skin shown
    After a night spent rolling around on the bank
    Revived by the silt and a heavy slumber
    And flecked with a certain light impenetrable
    Like a soft warm wedge of amber

    We’d watch the mud larks unearth their treasure
    Coins, and a ring, a pair of dog tags, and boat parts
    A tackle box filled with tarnished fishing lures
    Two aluminum bean cans, a bicycle rim, a gun metal figurine
    We wondered about each items worth
    And then our own
    And who they belonged to
    And If we were worth belonging to

    We either bury our heads in the sand
    Or in each other
    We’d say

    Those mornings now
    Becoming one
    And
    Unfurling, like an old flag
    For the first time
    In a long time
    June
    I don’t recall us ever leaving.
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