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Purbeck lament
               Ruth Ayle

               Snatched from my stratum,
               hacked away by candlelight

               to lie weathering, gold to grey.

               I wanted to lie in grass forever,
               let the brambles cover me over

               and children scramble on my sides,

               but stand as grave marker, carved
               with epitaph and name for a woman

               whose death only I remember.

               When the moon turns dark
               and the planets brilliantly conjoin

               I will uproot from my founda ons

               lumber out across the Purbeck plateau,
               a darker moving shadow, an old man
               with rheuma c joints and terrifying face,


               down the cliff to Dancing Ledge.
               I will paddle on my sibling rock,

               sea-pa erned with wavelets,

               then slowly dance for the joy of living.
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