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The round pond
holds an upside down forest.
The inverted tree tops clench
a disk of sky
between serrated teeth.

From the canoe I slide
into the pond’s maw
a forest mouth barely blue
closes its lips over my toes
swallows me
into the curved mirror.

In the living dark below
I hear the call of nostalgia
the want with no echo
an invitation I accept, B.Y.O.G.
Bring Your Own Gills.

My lungs expel an imperative
line of clear pearls
yank me back to the present’s surface.


Marie-Andree Auclair's poems have appeared in a variety of print and online publications in Canada, the United States, Ireland and in the United Kingdom. Her chapbook, Contrails was released by In/Words Magazine and Press/Ottawa. She lives in Canada.