America’s sticky Grapes of wrath,
fingers, linger, coddled by broken
tracing constraints thumbs, yearn
it had to do with units
of time of squares of dollars
of birth orders of birds migrating
How could I have known then
That my happiness would cause her pain
That my misery would bring her joy
Mother is here. Mother gives Baby Girl a bath in the kitchen sink. This is the last night they will be together. Mother placing Baby Girl in warm water is here. Baby Girl splashing her small hands in the bubbles is here. Mother washing Baby Girl in soap and tears is here…
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