angelry
A cornfield made of rain
A ruined ghost
showing the palms
of my mother's
hands
to infants
ecstatic
with eyesight
The low miracle's most vanished
pleasure carried to its invisible end
A cornfield made of rain
A ruined ghost
showing the palms
of my mother's
hands
to infants
ecstatic
with eyesight
The low miracle's most vanished
pleasure carried to its invisible end

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