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She Wanted To Sleep, So I Gave Her This Chant
the nautilus breathes
a coil of shell pressed from inside out..
separates the dead salt’s water from the life’s
interior of soft, pink cells, the wisps
of life through which ideas flew from one
nautilus to another across
gulfs of that brackish bit
I will be slipt
between the shell’s
abalone frame and
that near-life huddled in the nautilus’ chamber
into being an electric
spider’s web below calm, green seas