children wanted her
the men in her life did not
oh sweet mom of mine
she had no babies
souls of cats inhabiting
her empty sad womb
having slept on moss
faeries stole her dreams of birth
stuck in neverland
the winter orange tree
lives on in spanish courtyards
viva la crueldad
rhythms were stolen
miscarriages, misplaced years
broken heart tempos
jazz is like physics
or improbability theory
playing nice
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