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This Body of Water Is Not Meant to Move

Read by Matthew Minicucci

The lake freezes, the lake closes its eyes
and a minor paralysis comes upon us.
From the knees, I stand in landfall, landfill.
Above, vultures continue their business in the heavens.
Toads wipe their eyes in pure funeral.
What changes is not the weather.
What changes is barely there, like a stocking
hanging over a bathtub, drying in clean air.
I spent all night shaking out a sleepy leg.
In the morning, the consequences are heavy.
You fall out of bed, pure boxed gravity.

Jane Wong received her MFA from the University of Iowa. Her poems have appeared in journals such as CutBank, Mid-American Review, and the anthologies Best New Poets 2012 and The Arcadia Project. The recipient of fellowships and scholarships from the U.S. Fulbright Program, the Bread Loaf Writers’ Conference, and the Fine Arts Works Center, she lives in Seattle, where she is a Ph.D. candidate in English at the University of Washington.