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[31] H atteras L ighth o use We laugh and pant for our hearts pushed this far, each step harder than the last, the air close and humid so that our hair clings to our necks and we gasp, forced to stop at landings on this spiral to a man-made moon. Each window leaks a draft of cool, reveals a scrap of blue tempting us up. We pull back against the wall, stall for earlier climbers who, descending, barely touch an elbow or a sleeve, brush past the life we hold. Kissed by bracing chill at the final door opening, we stare at the drop, the knots of shrunken tourists on the beach. The waves do their pre-historic two-step, shuffle and glide, die and die again, wind-tossed, noisy but solemn, the moves classy as a model’s swinging her long legs down the runway, reminiscent of that halt, moth on a pin, to woo the audience, before she pivots, charming in reverse, then lopes backstage into the darkness she came from, tearing off her clothes in a frenzy to meet the next “Allez!” ...


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Related ISBN
MARC Record
Launched on MUSE
Open Access
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