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Daria Shipukhina, Fluid Nature
Forgetting the Shape of Home
Deborah Corr
 

I made a bed of soil 
in my mother’s garden,

​earth molding to 
the shape of my body,
 
I lifted fists full of dirt 
and watched 
 
as it filtered back 
in a flow to the ground, 
 
my eyes unfocused, 
lost in sensation, 
 
the sky benevolent 
above the planet
 
with its own 
heartbeat, the lub-dub
 
that rocks an infant 
in its mother’s womb.
 
When did that sound 
grow faint in my ear?
 
When did I forget
how to shape my body 
 
to fit the contours
of my home.
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