Mothers

in all their blind-driven, driven blind caresses

And plaster-stuck, never-empty chests of neverminds

Sleep, never again, each night of their mother life.

Bedraggled

as a May blackbird, hopping half-starved and careless

to gain a moment singing a whisper to the moon,

fall into a womb convoluted drowse

Washing

down and fending off the black years

of sh...

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