her small strings abound
rising from a mothers' flesh-
tangled in the comfort
of hollow bones
as she stumbles upon
her age
~
pale
like each fallen pearl-
once-removed,
she is all memory here
come the sinking
~
each habit of older lifetimes
framed young
she opposes
by burying all but her mind
~
the sacred wood askew
she finds herself aware:
of how each moment is a contrast
between a thing
and it's echo
with the hieroglyph splayed
between
Bronze trophy winner
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