Wednesday, April 4, 2018
I SING TO MYSELF AS I MOVE THROUGH THE UNDERWORLD/Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads
I SING TO MYSELF AS I MOVE THROUGH THE UNDERWORLD
A soft whisper
Lilts through the air
Travels on the afternoon breeze
I am just a girl grown old
I am a rainbow catcher
I am a painter of many colors
I am a crystal that sparkles
I am a bone collector
I am a Mom who died
I am an organizer of words
I am outraged by what I see
I am still standing
I have grown cold
All that is left is a burial at sea
Little remains of who I once was
There are few who remember me
April 4, 2018
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