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The Birthrights of a Dead Poem
I think i have swallowed
a broken hummingbird
in my sleep. And it died right
in the middle of my lungs.
A rose garden started growing
in the pockets of its wings-
blooming like art- coiling around
my fragile spine....
a broken hummingbird
in my sleep. And it died right
in the middle of my lungs.
A rose garden started growing
in the pockets of its wings-
blooming like art- coiling around
my fragile spine....
