from The Unquarried Blue of Those Depths Is All But Blinding, There are some things we just dont talk aboutNot even in the morning, when were waking,When your calloused fingers tentatively walkThe slope of my waist: How loves a rust-worn boat,Abandoned at the dockand who could doubtWaves lick their teeth, eyeing its hull? Were takingOur wreckage as a promise, so we dont talk.We wet the tired oars, tide drawing us out.

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More quotes by Ashley Anna McHugh, Into These Knots: Winner of the New Criterion Poetry Prize

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