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 My salt marsh
-mine, I call it, because
these day-hammered fields

of dazzled horizontals
undulate, summers,
inside me and out-

how can I say what it is?
Sea lavender shivers
over the tidewater steel.
A million minnows ally with their million shadows (lucky we'll never need to know whose is whose).
The bud of storm loosens: watered paint poured dark blue onto the edge of the page.
Haloed grasses, gilt shadow-edged body of dune… I could go on like this.
I love the language of the day's ten thousand aspects, the creases and flecks in the map, these brillant gouaches.

by Mark Doty
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