she’ll only forget
her children, pale green when the dawn
deprives them of sleep.
she’ll sing bitter lullabies,
an aeternal dirge, primaeval and calling
to all that sees light.
she will look out
when the night is high and all the rotten
things flourish.
her breath so deep,
full of fragments, fragrances, thoughts
catching up with last winter.
she’ll move on
collecting debris and bringing up treasures
to grow young herself.
and when all is
set and ripe and bringing forth life,
she’ll eat her children.

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