Had to come in out of the people,
they blew me about so.
Was told of the life taking place
elsewhere. Went to check on that,
flying late and low over the west.
Saw no house, no shade.
Sat down on the damp bank
on the far shore at the left
edge of the world, against which
the sea endlessly lapped.
So now there were two of us,
who beat the world by
day and caressed it by night
and the world didn’t say
yea and she didn’t say nay.
Source: Poetry (January 2013).
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This poem originally appeared in the January 2013 issue of Poetry magazine
Sara Miller is currently a poetry fellow at the Fine Arts Work Center in Provincetown, Massachusetts. Her poems have appeared in the Yale Review, America, First Things, and Poetry Daily.
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