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"I continue to believe that poetry remains one of our most vital reservoirs of reflection, solace, and outrage within a world replete with horrors."

-David St. John


The murky river settles into my eyes,

my mouth rejects, then accepts the water,


fish slip against my skin.

A stone at my throat,


another tied round my ribcage,

a rope—familiar—


slices into my wrists. The dead

do not grieve the death of others.


As I sink, I think—

God is an elegy the world writes.


It’s what makes the concept so beautiful.

The way time is beautiful: brief and endless.

-from "Elegy for the Almost Drowned"

Published in South Dakota Review

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