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Click hereI dreamt about a boy
with a new set of lungs;
a recycled heart
thumping away under his shirt
a boy who had pressed fresh aloe to my leg
on some distant childhood beach
And now-
here in my dreams
twenty years later
groping to free my breasts,
breath hot at my throat.
He with the recycled heart
neared the frigid ledge;
dove deep
with no oxygen-
didn't leap;
surfaced gasping
grateful and whole
for a few more years
of ferocious sunsets
and dusky pink beaches
Solemn scars proclaim
where he's been,
how deep he dove,
the unfathomable edges
he groped for in the dark.
This is a terrific use of dark imagery and ambiguous phrases that draw the reader into the construction of the poem.