Portrait: Savasana

No pantyhose in the drawers.
A large seed threaded through
with a loop of leather, a bead
that I was saving. Ink and
notebooks. I don't know
how to forgive myself anymore
for decades of misunderstanding.
Perhaps I just refused to believe
trying to be a person would not 
get in the way of being a mother. 
The yoga teacher says lift
your palms to your chest;
turn it into a box
of intention. Then lie
down and bring your hands
to your sides. Imagine
your corpse floating down-
river, leaving everything
and everyone behind. 

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