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A Hundred Children

Tell me about your sunshine 
and the sounds of coffee 
and of barefeet pounding the earthen floor 
the creaking trees 
and the skinned memory of hugs 
you gave 
and you received. 
Sit down, yes, here, 
the intermittent sobbing 
of the shades 
slit by your golden face. 
Now listen to the hundred children 
that are your womb. 
I am among them.