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on eriskay
niall campbell
she met me at the fence. a kelpie
who'd stayed too long in this horse form,
she mouthed the sugar on my palm,
and when i slapped her barrel flank
perfume. 3 gathered on the stoop.
what a way to be seen out: confused
among the pearlwort and the fallow.
her beach songs, like the recalled taste
of bucket milk, inched from her tongue.
dusk grew behind the house. i watched
her drink the moon from a moon-filled trough.
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