22.2.06

what she touched was hers

An absolutely perfect piece by a master of economy and the image…


Lucille Clifton

my mama moved among the days

my mama moved among the days
like a dreamwalker in a field;
seemed like what she touched was hers
seemed like what touched her couldn’t hold,
she got us almost through the high grass
then seemed like she turned around and ran
right back in
right back on in

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