Margaret Szumowski Translation By Water I am translated, moon-bellied, a creature of tides. Floating this meadowed sea, I finger the reeds. Orange fins hatching, blizzards of white butterflies. The sea breathes. I float faceless in water sharp with teeth. A tide could break me against the shore. The razor-toothed, the shovel-faced scooping the slime. This is moon time. The coursing of tides, the innermost sea.

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