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In my underwater dream, mermaids flowed

to flute, harpsichord and violin swings,
moving tails and hands holding shells that glowed
in the crisp blue – mother of living things:
I heard the harpsichord sound the deepest – 
its fusion of tension and percussion,
drawing textures that bleed like palettes, blessed
by the hand that, quivering, made motion:
I can only follow suit, so I swim,
I propel my body into the flow
of a timeless depth, of a muted time
only heard underneath, that is, below:
I could lie in the sand a thousand years
and still not fathom what the water hears.
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