Sally Bliumis-Dunn

What fills the sails that is not

the wind fills me now.

What is not feather, bone,

beak or wing of bird,

but still of bird, is in me.

They say in seven years

we regenerate all our cells.

So in three years our love will be

on its second body. Imagine

fingers of a wave, reaching up a shore,

an open palm of sky;

nothing with the heaviness

of muscle, bone, the sorrow

of an empty chair.

Sally Bliumis-Dunn: "Being asked to read in the Love Poems program at the Library of Congress in 2008 was a big thrill. I was a finalist for the Pablo Neruda Prize in 2002, and my poems have appeared in The Paris Review, Poetry London, MARGIE, Nimrod, The New York Times, Prairie Schooner, among others. My first book, published in 2007, was called Talking Underwater, and my next book, due out in November 2010, is called Second Skin."

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