Where We’d Jump Off and In

The dock where crabs would hang
onto the bait in cold waters of mid-June,
then fall away and back in – where

he always made sure I got in
the dinghy safely on Sunday mornings,
my white pumps in hand, my life jacket

wrinkling my new summer dresses
as we motored our way to church
from the island where we became
engaged Рhaving fallen in love forever,

jumping off and in.

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