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Holly Thompson-II




we go hiking up a Tanzawa river bed

wearing straw sandals that expand

to keep us from slipping in the water

on wet rocks and on muddy trails

that parallel the mountain stream


over the whoosh of water

a sound of rolling

someone calls out

we turn

you stop

and right

where you would have stepped

a rock the size of your head



nothing follows

nothing more

just a rock

where you

would have stood

and fallen