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52 The Pool A male jay from the rubber plant Flew down where I sat waiting For you to come and swim with me. He eyed the blades of grass, Then quietly from roots of sod, Plucked out an earth-clad worm, With self-sufficient certainty, And jaunty heedlessness. The worm was swallowed, dirt and all; The sated creature left. I closed the book I hadn’t read, Prepared to swim alone. The sun was branded on the pool— I still expected you. You have a way of showing up Just like that hungry bird; You know exactly what to do— And I’m the yielding lawn. You find the writhing worm in me That moves and dies for you. The surface shattered with my dive Into the pool’s deep roar; The water might have been the sky, Clear to the blurry floor. ...


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