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resolve :: leslie ullman

by on May 7, 2016

It’s a sudden hue
of feeling. The tint
that softens the edge between
act and dream. Blue as the bay
at noon, the huge
eye through which I swim

once I’ve stopped looking back.
It’s the flow of words after
a moment of doubt ā€” drought
in the throat. It’s the slow rain
that fell this morning
on freeways and fields,

not the cold wink of cash, not
the steel or titanium
I thought it was, forged
by a man in goggles wielding fire,
not sword
or bolt out of the blue ā€”

It is the blue, the translucent
cup whose accomplice
is gravity. It’s the cup’s water
born of polar ice and ozone,
the element that washed
ashore and held us

while our cells felt their
way into marvelous
folds, peninsulas and ridges,
and we stretched,
then opened our eyes, then
tried our legs for the long climb.

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