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The Child

Updated: Mar 17




Until he returns–


the child you once lost


in the folds of your bed


in the pleats of your skirt


in the spinning of threads.


The child you once forgot


at a midwestern bus stop


buried in hail


in the highlights of your hair


in the gloves of your heart


in the weight of your head.


The child you once abandoned


in a Damascene mosque


riddled with beads


chiselled with silence


adorned with burns.


Until he returns.







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