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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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