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  • Jennifer Preston Chushcoff


Some say the sea lies beyond, others, the sky.

It is not for me to say. I only know, there’s something out there.

The fog horn warns of it. Its luminal echo approaches, clasps every branch of the solemn garden.

There are rumors a bridge lies just west, connecting soft-shouldered land, a graceful arc pinning down the liminal bodies of underwater worlds and salt-ripe air.

Shall we step off and see?


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