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31 Portrait in Black andWhite:My Heart Sits in Her Boat Still inlet, a mirroring, the gesture heartwood or early winter rain. My heart, who is a woman, is reaching down to touch her face, small hands curved into quartermoons. Her body a black arc. She is not lonely or brittle. Because of this, just below the skin of her reflection, fish, flame-bodied ghosts, fan into waving skirts of darkness, waving skirts of darkness. 32 This page intentionally left blank. ...

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