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The same air we collected

in our hair and clothes

from a view of the river

is flowing out of hedgerows

up the garden wall

through the open window

to and fro between our mouths,

thoughtless, nocturnal,

with no sense of occasion,

nothing we said or didn't say

stops it short, it seems content

lifting our ribs and then letting go.

Sian Hughes is the education officer at the Poetry Society. Her collection, 'Saltpetre', is published by SmithDoorstep Books

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