Your Breath on my Arm

A Poem by Linds Sanders

night swimming
we pass between days

you fell asleep in the passenger seat
as we crossed the border

there are whales in our hearts
coming up for air

Linds Sanders habits in saying “yes” to things that scare her. She yessed herself into whitewater kayaking, working with preteens, and saving house spiders. She’s not frightened by teaching art classes, serving on boards of directors, or living in a 60-square-foot van with her husband. She repurposed her BA in Journalism into an equally underpaying pursuit in poetry and art.

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