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Written by Debra Nystrom, Professor, Creative Writing Program, Department of English, College and Graduate School of Arts & Sciences

A little cool, you think,

then the iron-scent takes you in,

you leave your feet and let it—


early summer chill easing its ripple

across your chest as if this water

never held a body other than yours


—silk, silty touch, thick with

minerals that knew you before

your body was body at all—was


nothing, pure impulse, wanting to be

taken, known, sweet-weight lifted

alone out to the dark middle,


place you always knew, as it knew

you would find yourself here, wet,

untethered, eyes closed, forgetting.



-Debra Nystrom

Night Sky Frequencies: New and Selected Poems