Anita Craig

the maze of her pre-life
creepy crawlies inside the flour
they are all there in my mind

by writing i try to figure out and explain to myself
slide in surreptitiously from the side
the currents aren’t always warm

an urgency to be written on the page
the line that i fly by is fragile
its intricate trail on the sand

it flowers with surprising prettiness all year long
Savour

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