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My roots snake down like arrows my marrow is filled with Her. In the spongey absences left by my lover I cajole and wink the Goddess into my palms. I court her. She is my muse and my sandwich. She is all the things my mother never could be and I devour her. I ask to go home I want to be taken home I want my taproot to knock on the door of her heart and I want her to let me in. Mothers and lovers in a masquerade, musical chair faces passed back and forth and I’m sucking the last sweetnesses out of this lollipop. My cheeks implode with the velocity of my pulling and straining at her hem. The Grand One, the Great Mother rocks in a boat made of wicker and I am the waves, I am the undertow. Seagulls wheel overhead and I am their wingtips. Murmuring mermaids are cresting and I seek something solid. Where is the ground where are my mudprints? I peck the shore for bits of clams and crumbs and wait for the next high tide.



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Poet and Tarot Reader, specializing in Water Cartography
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