under seaweed and swept glass.
in a tinsel crown and tissue cape
I am dizzy with so much treasure:
curtains and netting,
twigs and stones
my hands, in those days,
were never idle. seamstress
and daughter
stitching shorelines
to ravelled landscapes.
you promised solemn, not once,
but always, the colours in nature
move the brushstrokes of God.
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