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Just Sourdough
Christie Wong
I think my parents raised me right
They wanted my ripeness to
come in time and leaven with
possibility
Keeping my unbounded bravery under cellophane and laminate
to inject enough caution, wit and anger to rise like a dough
Fear of face
Yellow in cowardice
distrustful in open moonlight
that cuts scars apart
I may have searched the darkest corners of my soul and sin
and found but corners and mirrors felt in the dark.
Originally,
I was not bred to breathe so much damp air
Sun in my name
Royalty and calmness in its sake
And so I had to climb these mountains to get there
I am golden with possibility.
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