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Her Downturned Mouth
Her downturned mouth
hardly open, fully
open. And her short breaths,
each one almost the last.
Though her arms and legs,
her now-small head, lay so firmly
on the bed, a sense of something --
a birthing slow to form
in the thin egg of frailty
but forming and soon to leave.
Her Downturned Mouth
Her downturned mouth
hardly open, fully
open. And her short breaths,
each one almost the last.
Though her arms and legs,
her now-small head, lay so firmly
on the bed, a sense of something --
a birthing slow to form
in the thin egg of frailty
but forming and soon to leave.
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