Back of the dam, under a
flat pad
of water, church
bells ring
in the ears of lilies,
a child's swing
curls in the current
of a yard, horned
pout sleep
in a green
mailbox, and
a boy walks
from a screened
porch beneath
the man-shaped
leaves of an oak
down the street looking
at the town
of Hill that water
covered forty
years ago,
and the screen
door shuts
under dream water.
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