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Sippo Lake

June 26, 2008

No larger than a tiddly wink
it would leave only a mist,
land empty in a small cup.
Still, it claims our attention.
One winter a neighbor boy drowned
under the shrunken flat white disk;
often summers when nightfall
renders the sky all colors,
mirrors two worlds from one,
sun running over
I can still hear his mother say
she lives by that light.

by Diane Kendig

Read by Beth Adams — Download the MP3

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  1. June 26, 2008 at 2:12 pm

    Wow. Terrific poem. I don’t know if I would have dared to write a poem with “tiddly wink” in the first line, knowing how much assurance and power it would take to sweep it into a cup of poetry. But you make it look easy.

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