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48 The Iron Range When they put a balloon in my heart I asked them to raise it. I can’t tell how many times the hummingbird came to sweet tubes in the hospital. Please, don’t cut them. That ticking is my watch. A boy hung his clothes, from these tubes and in the pond’s reflected birches. I didn’t want to check the decoy tethers. A clearing in the weeds where the shadow of a kite lingered; the calm water in a font clogged with fine hair. Who replaced the diver’s gaskets? A girl with ponytails. The poor boys on the coast covered their bodies with black candle wax, and searched beneath a boat as dragon-fish on fishing lines cut through. One fisherman, thinks the other shaved over the water. ...

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