
somewhere a little girl is reading aloud in the middle of a dirt road.
she smiles at the sound of her own voice escaping the spine of a book.
she feeds on her hunger to know herself. she has not yet been taught to dim, she sits with the stars beneath her feet, a constellation of things to come.
as if a swallowed moon, she glimmers.her head wrap rolls out in a gutter,
bare feet scat the earth, the ghosts of women once girls make a bridge of the dust dancing behind her,
she decorates the ground in dimples she stomps suffering out the spirit hooves drumming the earth in circles
she holds gladness in her mouth like a secret teased out of a giggle joy like her sadness overflows
she is not the opinions of others she is of visions and imagination she is a room full of listening, lending herself to her own words
somewhere
a deep remembering of what was she survives all.
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