This cove will be empty. No bass fishermen. No radios.
This cove will cover your heart in silence. The surface of the water is only broken behind your canoe. In front of you, a smooth glass table.
There are eleven cormorants in a tree watching, but they are in support of you. They won’t point their long feathery fingers or sneer behind them.
They won’t say just leave your husband then. They won’t say your life has been a sham.
The boat makes a low slosh thud as it bumps into a shallow sandbar and you sit. Suspended. Between one world and the other.
Why must it take an explosion to find peace?
This cove is empty but for a beautiful blue heron balancing on a fallen log.
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