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2nd Annual SWWIM LOVES YOU BACK 

Donor Roll Call

Brooke Bovee
Helene Fisher
Majda Gama
Valentina Gnup
Hilary King
Diane LeBlanc
Arden Levine
Anne Marie Macari
Chloe Martinez
Susan Milchman
Erin Murphy
Julie Murphy

2nd Annual SWWIM LOVES YOU BACK Donor Roll Call Brooke Bovee Helene Fisher Majda Gama Valentina Gnup Hilary King Diane LeBlanc Arden Levine Anne Marie Macari Chloe Martinez Susan Milchman Erin Murphy Julie Murphy

2nd Annual SWWIM LOVES YOU BACK Donor Roll Call

Nancy Murphy
Haya Pomrenze
Jenny Qi
Cindy Veach

2nd Annual SWWIM LOVES YOU BACK Donor Roll Call Nancy Murphy Haya Pomrenze Jenny Qi Cindy Veach

2nd Annual SWWIM LOVES YOU BACK

And the winner is...

LARA PAYNE

2nd Annual SWWIM LOVES YOU BACK And the winner is... LARA PAYNE

Seedheads, golden

Lara Payne

Such an abundance of green, I used 
to think, passing that corner lot, daily  
But the man was taken from his lawn 
two weeks ago, now, and the grass grows 
uncut and unruly. We are in gold time,  
now, gold season. Light abundant 
in its waning glory. A whole field 
of children running, kicking. Dive 
and fall. Voices meld with owl 
and hawk, the last peepers. I am 
the partially rusted crank of a bicycle 
that barely rattles. I am the skill 
you pretend will come back. Memory 
grows in me like that uncut grass 
will, one season later. If I take the high 
path above the river who will I see, fear? 
Will ticks unstick from tall grass, attach  
to my churning legs? Tick tick tick 
the bicycle is singing, now. Everything ends 
the grasshoppers sing and the sunset-bound  
birds, and the man in some cell, taken  
from my street while I walked in sun  
at the farmer’s market.

Seedheads, golden Lara Payne Such an abundance of green, I used to think, passing that corner lot, daily But the man was taken from his lawn two weeks ago, now, and the grass grows uncut and unruly. We are in gold time, now, gold season. Light abundant in its waning glory. A whole field of children running, kicking. Dive and fall. Voices meld with owl and hawk, the last peepers. I am the partially rusted crank of a bicycle that barely rattles. I am the skill you pretend will come back. Memory grows in me like that uncut grass will, one season later. If I take the high path above the river who will I see, fear? Will ticks unstick from tall grass, attach to my churning legs? Tick tick tick the bicycle is singing, now. Everything ends the grasshoppers sing and the sunset-bound birds, and the man in some cell, taken from my street while I walked in sun at the farmer’s market.

It’s Week 3 of our Second Annual SWWIM Loves You Back! Digital Broadside Sweepstakes! Many thanks to all of our Week 3 donors and congratulations to this week’s winner, Lara Payne! Have you been published in SWWIM Every Day?

#SWWIMEveryDay #SWWIMWithUs #SWWIMLovesYouBack #WomenWriters #WomenPoets

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