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We Used to Say, Aww, Hell-We're Young: POEMS - Mutha Magazine
We Used to Say, Aww, Hell. We’re Young. Remember the day we met? The newborn scent of singed hair and how you said for the first time ever, “…my son?” Mother, I was birthed of your own winged ways. Sacred, profane, grackles gathered overhead, More knowable in the lacuna of sky than [&hellip