From below,
it looks like a young woman,
hair pulled over to the side
like the tail of a horse
swishing over her shoulder
pointing to the right breast.
And the cavity under the chest
does suggest breasts,
the head tipped
in a womanly peace.
She is a dancer mid-glide,
arms raised towards grace;
from underneath, the face
has soft hollows,
the shadows of a mother’s hands
trying to hold
running water still
for one moment,

PRISCILLA ATKINS lives with her husband and two dogs on the shore of Lake Michigan.

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