The donkey of motherhood She wanted to visit the chapel, so full of the portraits of icons, a person couldn't fit in Hip height and upholstered Heehaw heehaw - the mountain path a little steep If she carried what little idea she had of prayer up here, what then? If she carried herself. And the donkey of motherhood, switch tailing the green horseflies of doubt stood patient in the village and the yellowbirds of future crashed through the cypress trees
Day 2 Tectatrys Slouched sofa, leather worn, we are both tired. We did our best to repair each other. Surreal Put a line of mourners out to dry and scrape up what is left behind with a silver, jewelled spatula. The drowning part of drowning gone A vein. A one way drag. A thing you run to find that other element. Some anklet,some collarbone velvet. Stood fishspined, moving your hands. An unsmall, an etiolation, a strawberry lace, an ache that ties bellybutton to stone. A what is wanted, squared and billionaired - Chocolate and Weltschmerz. A goddess submerged so all her limbs are shell and claspy purses, so they are a refinery, a special prising tool required, a rawness. Something expected of god, and because expected, not worth its own name - a kind word. A lottery stigmata, a living teddy from the claw machine.
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