our island 102_opt.jpg
the island out there
on the other side
sucked out air
of first line guide
watched sheets break
kept sure hand
against codes he makes
to wall off land
with one sheet of paper
sluice down it, tired, escape
what brought us here, all but dead
steadying the room, the windowsill,
the future, the bed.

all words, including title, from page 102 of Shutter Island by Dennis Lehane. poem #91 of the First 100 Days series, and poem #20 for National Poetry Month.
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