Little Kid

ravishing in sunlight.

in my breakaway,

in climbing vines

roots embedded in the crevices

of old worn stone

notice how they cling as they grow?

and suddenly i am just an infant 

mounted on my mother's breast,

my fist around her pointer finger.

my bleeding heart only less

fragrant than the ones in my

grandmother's garden. 

crisscross

NY

16 years old

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