Jill Mann | your refracted smile

if I held it

in my palms

 

would it slip

into the creases

and learn me?

 

the stories

of my childhood wounds

and the laughter

that preceded them

 

or would it rest gently

waiting to be freed

like thistle combed

from  a horse’s hide?

 

I am not in need

of  permanency

 

but I will be

drinking in

the joy

I inherit from you

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