My Mother

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you said / you would stay / here—with us / yourself

you didn’t say / you would remain / only as a dim / ethereal vapour—forevermore

you promised—warned / we would know / you — r self / who you’d become

you didn’t warn / we’d learn / what lies beneath / to live stunted—stilted

you told us / you’d chosen / this path—this rinsing wind / to leave

you didn’t tell us / we would need to choose / not to follow—merely a glance in / the mirror we wanted to decieve

you warned—promised / maternal—and drunk / that you would nourish / and stumble

you didn’t say / goodbye

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Casimir Laird-Berrard
Casimir Laird-Berrard

Written by Casimir Laird-Berrard

admirer of well-styled texts, Zhuangzi, the Imagists, and Eno. inquiries and inquests at casimirgb@gmail.com

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