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poem

beam

That was the moment

I would have touched your hand

or asked if I could kiss you.

We both wore pretty dresses,

brick red and pink.

I wanted to learn everything

about your life north:

splitting wood in your free time,

community conflict, living in an RV.

You said I was a role model of self-love,

amazed I trusted you

about your drug use.  (I would trust myself.)

Your intelligence shining on me

feels like a beam of pleasure.

I bask and sunbathe,

accumulating reasons to live.

Praise Mother God for giving me

this fat body

to receive the physical gifts.

By Nest

Curious, disabled Earth Goddess, telling the truth.

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