I feel the wind as the numb earth feels it.
I feel the heavy seed in the warm dark
And the spring ripening—
And what is this to be a woman? Why,
To be a woman, a sown field.
Let us
Attribute a significance perhaps
Not ours to what we are compelled to be
By being it:
as privately forestall
The seed’s necessity by welcoming
The necessary seed;
likewise prevent
Death with the apothegm that all men die.
Yes.
And then wake alone at night and lie here
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