Growing
no inclination to take lines
but i do it anyway
lines of my mothers poetry
a youth i never knew i had
captured in a book i never read
pages turned by strangers
they know my first steps
first word
the shape i made in the oven
and yet
don’t know my name
i am grown now
She no longer sits on a pedestal
and neither should they
take it down
crack the spine
roll up pennies
and snort another beautiful line
we don’t know any other way
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