Our Mark

Our Mark

The women in my family
come slowly to themselves.
Decade by decade
little habits of faith,
of nurturance,
drop from them
until they are almost
raw curiosity
and off they go.
Loop to loop then
they trace that
oldest walkabout,
press their bodies
into its mark.
Infinite numbers of women
have fallen into its pattern.
Infinite numbers of daughters
will trail after them. 
 
 
Sherry Robbins, from Or, The Whale, BlazeVOX [books]

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