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Steve Shepherd: a poem

on not swimming

I watch the women submerge their shoulders. a seal surfaces out by the rocks. they call: it burns for a minute and then you're in and I know it's true but I am stuck, a child again, watching as others play. unable to join them, disappointed in myself, and then comforted by that sense of disappointment.

Steve Shepherd writes poems and takes photographs. He used to make radio programmes, mostly jazz.

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