The morning light penetrates my skin

Like benign bleach, or some

Essential vitamin, only missed in absence

It glances from the surface of the sea

Like skimmed stone, then it

Hit home


It is a weapon of mass invention

The very place of our creation

No wonder then, that our mother’s mother shaped her very

Grounds around those rays that suns make at solstice;

That she took the warmth within her, like tea

And it made me

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