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I Gave My Love a Story

ISSUE:  Fall 2019


Now it is night again, child on my chest.
I croon & my song drifts you toward rest.

As I chant in darkness you are also learning
to hear minor scales chime & fourths falling. 

Together we hover inside a melody
many dead mothers once sung before. 

Tonight the cherry still has no stone.
Tonight I rock you out of bodily memory

& these songs are older than we are
& this tune I hum is wise as a virus 

it makes me a vector 
for rhythm & cadence—

                 (tonight the chicken still has no bone)
& the song lives on, persists & persists—



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