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Grit and Sunlight


What springs up: insistence

in this persistent   

                        

                mother of mine (still breathing)


Even busy ashes     from a rescued urn


float up reconstituted as morning dew

 


She unfolds her tendril arms from shadow
   

(shaking just five days ago as if in temporary surrender)

 


(that moment when I am less certain of her longevity)

this woman ever present     (anyone’s mother)    aging 

 


when even the most spindly clover of her


fragile skin

                        captures the sunrise light like

 

anticipation’s shower      blood underneath all       


humming



bird or spores from her heart and in her mouth

 

inhale (frightened) breath     exhale grit

inhale (certain) breath           exhale grit

 

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