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by Norene Cashen
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1. Last Code Talker A sketch was submitted We held it as if we knew
And we did know
As if forgetting Were a lost pattern
As if the code had tapped us On the shoulder
We knew it had found us
Sitting there reading The last quarter of our lives
A line drawing cut into words
The same surface Sinking in our hands
2. Dowsing
We quoted things Phrases that turned out to be true
A test in response to our science Nothing rejected or disclosed
We searched the underground With a forked twig Trying to answer the world And the question of its indelible body
Unsure of the category We looked for the encounter there
Pure departure, the inaudible Thunder strung pole to pole
Still we searched, digging into The droning pocket of our speech
Which was itself a voice
3. One Designated As Another
We drew from the roof Beneath the worthless quarter of a moon
Rehearsal anchoring our action
Tumbled, faint, the nothing of Echo introduced again
Each successive display Buying its order as a grave plot
We followed the flow of its form Wearing the air of rightness
A time that understood its people By some insight or another
We were curious to know About the birth of this view
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