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A Long Tall Glass of Water



My mother called me a

long tall drink of water;

I understand

when you lie on my bed

after a bath, your wet hair

in brown branches

forking up above your face,

your magnolia feet hanging

off the bottom of the mattress,


your eyes level

with mine on the pillow,

blue and blue endlessly.

 

This is the bridge you build

between my mother and me

without trying;

this is the route she didn’t find.

I say it to you;

 

know that I will find you

somewhere later, remembering.

Mark my words,

mark this road;

I will come this way

and a hundred others.

 

 

 

Category: My articles | Added by: Kristin (09.20.2011)
Views: 177 | Rating: 0.0/0
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