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Mother's Children

Beds forgone,
In bed's reframe,
In God's veins.

In blessing arms,
The child falters,
Yet surreal besides God's alters.

And for me,
And for desecrated decree.

I hold onto hands of small children,
I am the hand of small children,
Not the inside out flesh toddler dead agony to me.

◄ transient blue


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