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by Cameron Morse
Past light strikes my new
born eye. Always
a new day strikes light
anew light unknown.
I am happy with the way
the wind moves single
stalks of grass, still shaky
from my push-ups. Omi
sleeping tent-flapped
on my chest, her head air
borne with my breath.
Reach deeper breath dear
blood pump and I will do
my push-ups, reach far
farther. How far the sky
now are the clouds close?
Is the sky closed? I am open.
Open myself my blood
blossom would include you
if you want to come along.