Gaea at Dawn

I am a skeptic.
I flatten the horizon at a glance,
and sleep in the shape of a question mark.

"Have faith in the future," she said.
"Have faith in us."

I dream Easter eggs in tiny hands,
dandelions, a woman's lap,
sunlight splashed on nursery rhymes.

Her word is birth,
consent a breath.
Life rights the contours of the firmament.

I uncurl in an empty bed
and think of what someone has said.


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