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In a Yellow Light

Diaper‐clad, I was dash and go from the rainy‐day house for a thing remembered; fig tree fitting the gap of fence line. Return was the breath of being, separate from my mother’s lap. Transfixed in a vessel of light, angels must have borne me up— no utterance of🔒

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Sunshine F. Branner lives in Alexandria, Va.


Posted in: Poetry, September 2015: Reproduction and Family Planning

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