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<figure><img src="https://image.xyzcdn.net/ltnVyNAjHnfjk7TdjJ2Fo6pzS_Zq.jpg"/></figure><p><em><strong>The Conversation</strong></em></p><p><em><strong>- Jane Hirshfield</strong></em></p><p><em>A woman moves close:</em></p><p><em>there is something she wants to say.</em></p><p><em>The currents take you one direction, her another.</em></p><p><em>All night you are aware of her presence,</em></p><p><em>aware of the conversation that did not happen.</em></p><p><em>Inside it are mountains, birds, a wide river,</em></p><p><em>a few sparse-leaved trees.</em></p><p><em>On the river, a wooden boat putters.</em></p><p><em>On its deck, a spider washes its face.</em></p><p><em>Years from now, the boat will reach a port by the sea,</em></p><p><em>and the generations of spider descendants upon it</em></p><p><em>will look out, from their nearsighted, eightfold eyes,</em></p><p><em>at something unanswered.</em></p><figure><img src="https://image.xyzcdn.net/Fgp-y1bwmTXjT2_Eo_POkxsuKEuf.png"/></figure><p...