em not en

before a dash
complicated everything
she spoke
in monosyllabic bouts

step off the dock
put down the rod
dig your toes in the sand
wait for the next
wave to crash
hold on for the ride
come to
one small beach town south
watch a blue crane
leave the salt marsh at dawn—

actually it’s a heron
not sticking its neck out

punctuating stillness
in brackish water

during another civil twilight
you do the leaving

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