Rewa Morgan

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For J.K.B.

let time be still and imagine
if that were true

 

my mind’s flowering rose
would not have aligned itself

 

with the bloom you admire
it would be a trick

 

true beauty cannot be lost to time
i have climbed above and rode

 

towards truth’s gusts of wind
like my ancestress

 

her intellectual prowess gifted me the feminine
tied up in a mane of hair

 

that blows thick lashes out
and shields my philosophy

 

i offer you my
night time breath that

 

heats the curves of libraries
archives and digital search engines

 

to critique the backbone
of your myth

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