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Kicking the pebbles along Eastbourne beach
as the orange-pink of sunset
plays with the ebbing tide,
my mother asks…
I feel it, first as a stir,turning deep in the murky water.Surfaces up for air, a twitchon the lake in my head.A flip, and it disappears.
Standing by the river, my face grewinto a flat fish and floated offto a lily pad, and I was lonelywithout myself, without my twin.