Ground
A New Poem
by Rae Armantrout
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Let me tell you something personal.
As a child, I worried about quicksand.
I don't know why I mention this.
I feel no connection
to the child who had that fear,
instilled, as it was,
by '50s films about explorers,
hokey
and tainted now.
I hold out my hand.
*
Brownian motion;
primal shudder.
The way it's hotter
to go to bed with someone
while imagining
yourself
to be another person.
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