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White Water

9
by John Montague

    The light, tarred skin

    of the currach rides

    and receives the current,

    rolls and responds to

    the harsh sea swell.

    Inside the wooden ribs

    a slithering frenzy; a sheen

    of black-barred silver-

    green and flailing mackerel:

    the iridescent hoop

    of a gasping sea trout.

    As a fish gleams most

    fiercely before it dies,

    so the scales of the sea-hag

    shine with a hectic

    putrescent glitter:

    luminous, bleached—

    white water—

    that light in the narrows

    before a storm breaks.

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