A Hundred Children
Tell me about your sunshine
and the sounds of coffee
and of barefeet pounding the earthen floor
the creaking trees
and the skinned memory of hugs
you gave
and you received.
Sit down, yes, here,
the intermittent sobbing
of the shades
slit by your golden face.
Now listen to the hundred children
that are your womb.
I am among them.
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