‘No origin is like where it leads to.’
Linger before the mirror—gaze committing your reflection to memory
Tracing light to its root of wonder.
Watch the world of your eye, its dark orbit
Patient as a bright pupil.
Watch how its core, like the earth’s
Hides its heat. Its metal. Its crust.
Before your eye, your father’s milk swam
In the pool of your irises. Your essence the size
Of a fist—swelling in the wombdark.
Watch how far you have grown from the beginning.
Linger before the mirror—gaze asking what trace is left of your
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