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I.
I come upon them perched
in weeping willows. Pewter
bodies glint among the dripping leaves.
The moon rolls across their wide eyes,
mouths open in 'O's.
As they slowly die I turn
over in my sleep.
II.
I swallow water, hover dumbstruck
in front of the glass wall of a restaurant—
remembering, forgetting
how I got here.
I cry out to the diners
wavering in front of me,
wave to get their attention,
but they don't notice. I look down
at my arms: thin-silken flimsies
fanning the water.
III.
First slice: white meat presents
itself beneath a gasp of steam
as metal scraped along bone
liberates the first bite.
Mouth meets flesh, taste
stirs memories:
oceans, oily depths,
eyes cupped wide in fear
as the first of our kind
leave the water. 
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