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Black Looks
After she swallowed me, my mother,
swollen with me, looked for the proper place
to empty me, the pain of carrying me
harsh on her body, a weight in a child’s hand.
So she had me among wild poppies at the foot of her
bed, flowers with faces opening, and cactuses
arranged in a range of well-wishing brightness
smiling to welcome me. [...]SHARETHIS.addEntry({ title: "Three Spoons", url: "http://www.blacklooks.org/2008/09/three_spoons.html" });