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The raw flex of muscled rope,

The blue slap of cold,

A tangible sky pressed into ink. 


Backs hunched in creel curves;

Hand over hand, bone over fist,

Blood into brute force of a gale-ripped sea.


The reward: 

A sliding spill of silver fish. 


That night, the sails split open galaxies;

Their guts are full of stars. 

Poem copyright Larissa Reid

Artwork copyright Elspeth Knight

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