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Gwendolyn Ann Hill: We, As Seeds

June 7, 2020 by PBQ Leave a Comment

Right now, we are enduring 

a period of cold 

stratification, as we must.

 

Let the sun droop low.

Let the snow 

melt, crust, pile

 

up, and melt again, 

tumbling over

the husks of our bodies.

 

Let the temperature drop.

Let the starlings flock 

to peck at the detritus

 

that engulfs

us, burying us over 

and over again.

 

Only this long 

freeze can soften

our shells. Only this dark

 

washing and rinsing 

of our skin can bring

us to bloom.

Filed Under: Issue 100, Poetry, Poetry 100 Tagged With: Gwendolyn Ann Hill

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