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From Alcatraz
- The Kent State University Press
- Chapter
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21 F R O M a l C a t R a Z I hear a woman’s laughter filter across the bay —clear, like toasting goblets, as close as release, unreachable. Picture bobbing yachts lit from within, portholes framing New year’s Eve, silk stockings, seams that curve then dance to perfumed corners, touch the satin underside of an arm. Wave tips carry the chime of ice in glasses until it melts, while ripples bear the high pitches, the bracelets’ jingles, rub them bearable. Unbearable. The call of a soiree swing band drifts and swells, falls back until I think it’s gone, dissolved with the voices in the bay. Untether me. Graze the black water with the back of your hand. ...