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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