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Last night I dreamed I was pregnant –
but surely something was wrong.

My belly,
moon-hollow,
was a silent rock beneath my clothes.

Caressing, I listened,
eyes closed –
deeper inside the deep –

and found
the gentle heartbeat flutter of jeweled wings,
a tiny moth struggling against a cage, tickling – geode sparkling –
a secret inside.

How, I wondered,
to crack myself open
and let it out?
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