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<h1>Moments were Meant to Pass</h1>
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<p class="summary" style="color: #000;">[Originally Published in Issue 3.]</p>
<p class="byline">Carter Vance </p>
<p><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Thinking about the captain's cliffs, <br>
we were seeking out triangles of the <br>
porous ocean light, literary watches <br>
ticking bell hours in the damp night.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Georgia;">In the morning in the bathtub, waking
up<br>
soakedsullen as ever, great Gods of the <br>
Marianas Trench, rising deep between ourselves; <br>
your eyes flickered as vineyard wine in monastery casks. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Reached out to hold lightly, your skin
wellknown <br>
as the New York skyline, traces welltrod <br>
as the MTA map; forgotten faces flickered <br>
coarsely as rocks on sandy parchment. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Blood was pumping, rising up swiftly <br>
hearts melding cautious to elixir's dawn; <br>
I never looked upon wind favourable, <br>
tossing shipward aquamarine allusions, until you.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Teeth chattered to the blanket warmup,
<br>
glinting dull greyyellow in the morning's indifference, <br>
us, tearing apart and soaking through, <br>
floods of inevitability washed over </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Georgia;">and two islands again we were.</span></p>
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