Country Music
an online journal of poetry
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Lucy Tiven

over the navy yard

so much time spent making rafts
in the shallow end. ‘dead self’
I’m sorry I left you
starved and defenseless
to such ordinary flagellations
of rain. w.c. and his friend with the hat
took me to the top of that building
it was tall & dust-smothered
on the inside. Christies was
supposed to turn it into
an auction house. I’m always
swimming back, rebuilding
one frail device out of kickboards
and foam arms