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Woman in Alverna
By Joel Vega

She lies on the green
beyond the pool of shallow
stones, her lily-eyes beyond
the brim of sight.
So crack the pelvis,
she lies unhinged,
her feet toeing
the subtle roots
of red tangerines.

Her bones shiver between
brown rocks, but they will
not come close, will not grow
together, she is untangled
like a clutch of seaweeds.
She will grow white
and lighter, her pale lips
smeared with liniment
from Leiria.
She will sink deep
into the swollen mud.
She is leaf, retreating wave,
part river tide, she is unresponsive
to begging, she is self-absorbed.
She swells like stone, but she will not
come back, will not

take root, will not
repeat the act.

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