Arran Island
Kevin McLellan

A lit match: decades of sluggish lime
     coats itself over and over: threatens
the remains of an etching: the flicker 
     of a deer scurrying into place.
To exit the cave whose hollow contains 
     you: the overexposure: the firth’s
rejuvenating fallen stars: the tide
     and cartwheeling mica. And now
on this moonlit evening, a startled pair
     of silhouettes stop.  Yes, these deer. 

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