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Sunday, March 27, 2022

Endtimes Meditation on Mothering Self-Care1

Have played

Rhythms from our small, faceless machines

To quiet ourselves, to scrub while mire from our

Cake, crust inside our pin beds, our spirit beds, our

For calm, & the water

Gurgling—those reedy electronic notes symphoning

Above that continual thrum of city, hurry of social

Soothes, for a moment, the fangless ache,

The dry-socket nub we language & tongue.

For a moment, we’re drowning inside the afterbirth

Seal-slick & flat-headed past such platitudes

Molecules formed our dust. Before

We split not shut blacknighted while a gore clot

From the pulmonary thrombosis of a mothered

Universe. Her timeless implode.

#Living #Life Choices #The Mind

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