Without Punctuation
How does it make you
Feel that people can practice magic
With our bodies without even trying
It makes me feel
Terrified and holy
Without punctuation
I grow angry when I’m landlike 
I grew long and unmothered
Once I woke up a mother
And no one could unmother me
I could give and give until
I screamed with giving
My giving began in a soft place
My giving began full of yeses
Then poof and my giving
Just was
And a person I loved was here and I was replaced
With a person I had little feeling for
I dreamt him wordless then made him without words
The spell was in me and the spell was wordless
I end all my days now without words for common objects
I point and drag my throat behind
I gave up beauty
Not to say I’m no longer beautiful
I have my moments
It fleets and fleets anonymous behind its grocery cart
My poetics no longer involves itself with beauty, which isn’t truth, isn’t even
A virtue
I prefer the literal
One of the first words is mole 
Because of my 
Untidy body
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