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My Writing Eden
Shipwrecks
the scurrying
sound of footsteps
coming
down the corridor
in the darkness
the panic
that carries me
from the nightmare
to the mother’s bed
the hands that reach out
to haul me in
to save me
I have memories
of shipwrecks
that bear me
back
through the blood
to the first mother
and to the very
first child
that ever lived.
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