Dukkah

Frida, almost freedom but not

Sylvia and her daughters carry

Her canvas free, fjords

Of possibility, afford me

No, afford me nothing

But this pen, this pin drop.

 

Dickinsonian in its loneliness,

A vast space where no one is

Tethered, time a mercy,

A song for almost there,

Not quite reaching my hand around,

Leaving a necklace unclasped.


 

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