Still We Rise
More by swimspotter
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Wife of a Nation
You vacuum the carpet in the same direction,
straight lines like ribs, hoping to be noticed,
hoping someone sees proof of you,
the ghost of your hands pressed into the fibers. -
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Folding in on Itself
I knew it was bad
when you didn’t even have to say it,
when I saw it in your eyes,
when I knew it in the way you folded your arms
and turned away when I spoke.
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