grace now
delicate the demand in me
and oh how sovereign
it runs raging, relent
until it finds the margins
of silence
grace
this is my substitute
the breast in holy metaphor
it is suckling and nesting
to give suck
suck
i thread an ancient chord
it is an undone umbilicus
substrata in a void
and i am the neophyte
without and within
the supple sounds
it is holding a hand
and letting it slip
and wanting it again
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