clotheshorse
a father shepherds his family from the storm cellar as his own father prepares to lose the orchard.
your life is a boy
looking for signs
made by women.
your mother is a vow of silence
you were born to second.
I am nobody I speak of. those alive to nuance, those seeing
a necklace in a grandmother’s clotted leg.
god is not silent. god is forgiven.
kingsoftrain 
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