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devotional, pt. 1
a heavy-eyed rainfall,
i sit attendant to the shatter of
water.
a quickened, liquid-silver-generous
stumble forward
and back.
a cold and antiquated window:
i pray it does not swallow my peripheral
as i swallow my pride.
i breathe and dream
(not at the same time)
and spit out the cold, watery air
left over from my drowning.
names forgotten, wings forgotten.
she reaches and i watch her,
my sweet mirror,
as she grasps feathers with her fingers,
an extension altogether
ascending
and condemning.

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