It's not what you expected,
life, from the beginning
they told you: Go in fear.
Then, sweet milk, odiferous
flowers also at a funeral,
the smell of death and what
it means to feel. Greetings,
goodbyes, the inbetween of love
and yearning like some small bird
shot in the heart, clinging to
its favorite bough, glancing
upward as it falls.
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