Microchimera

You were not shaken
from the pistil of a star-
gazer lily, not a shingle
scraped loose from 
the belly of a brocaded
carp. I looked in your eyes
and knew I couldn't have
summoned you by myself
from the lip of a walled 
garden, where you were 
already plotting your first
escape. I felt a tremor
in my womb. A bed of moss 
spread where you landed.

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