What if it was mine?
And from its hiding place it came to me
And asked me to listen to the voice of
Its wounds?
In its throat would come the sound of
Mother, beautiful and fine!
There were birds in that religion, blonde
Birds, and light, a short shine and twinkle,
When the churn of my fever scared me
And the moon watched with ashy envy.
What if alone it found the way?
Inspired with a boy's desire to seek the
Shapes of a man in my dark blue heart.
In its eyes would hold the questions of
God, and I would break myself on its
Rocks, and tell what I had to say.
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