Mother of Thousands

Tiny green leaves fall from the outspread 
tips of the mother. She is called Mother
of Thousands because everything that lurches
is launched into its new life apart. They dig
into the soil; for what might seem a century
or what might seem merely a day, they become
accustomed to this new feeling of being re-sown.
Does anything still anchor them to their origins?
There doesn't seem to be any real danger where
they've begun to take root—at least not the kind
that bares fangs or takes heads. The stones are small
and uniform in shape and size. The light sets
and rises several times a day. Their tiny ears
tremble at the trickle of water that comes from above.
The sky is the color of gesso board: barren and
flat, untroubled by any need to divide or multiply.

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