The Note

M a r y  C r e s s w e l l

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FINGERPRINTS

The geography of night

lives in my fingertips –

the comet’s loop as it

begins its return trip

to God knows where –

the arch of the Milky Way

when there is no moon

to compete – the ridges

of sound outlining

summer night in the city –

the whorls of spiral shells

living in seas too deep to try

this or any other night.