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I Should Tell You Something

if you’re still near enough
to hear —
my old friend wrote to say
she dreamed of you
before you died—and in the
dream you moved from pain
to the ocean, a banquet in a room
full of people enjoying, enjoying.
The room, all windows
sheer curtains moving in a breeze
and all the windows facing the sea
Was it you?
Was it true?
Did the ocean reach for you?
And was the feast everything
you would dream if you were
still here to dream it?

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