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Kathleen
Poems
Feb 2021
Less
She looked at me in a skeptical way and talked about what it means to be a vessel.
She offered some next steps, some sage advice.
But maybe I'm just the soil in champagne France, I thought, all chalk-full of clay.
Maybe the best most renowned bubbly celebrations come from this scraggly old vine.
What do you know? As I pawed at my stomach and breast.
Things still grow in the desert, they just aren't the things you like.
"So fruits and vegetables then?"
"Less fruit than you would think actually."
I blinked.
Written by
Kathleen
F/United States
(F/United States)
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