Loretta Scott
Poem
I am the bark, the lark
that saveth thee . . .
the willow that weeps
intervals, the branch that en-
twines,
I am what I am, the mother
chant the belly
of you, and less than
that would be hiding
put it more
and move
away to what it's about
I'll be around and be there
I have a cross in my pocket
farewell my good men.
Page(s) 21
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