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Lex Runciman
Beginning
Sky repeats its pallet of colors —
hereabouts especially triumphant grays.
Canes repeat their fruit, the blue and black
engorged sweetnesses of juice—Marion
or Tayberry or the red-to-almost-wine
raspberry sugar, color of sun.
The branch repeats the trunk, then
the branch repeats the branch it came from.
The trunk repeats, I don't know how, the seed.
And I am my parents, but not, but not.
Your eyes repeat only your eyes.
They sleep sometimes and I watch them
sleeping and moving. They look at skies.
They read. Sometimes they read me.
Steam cooling repeats the water it was.
Yet the first child is unique
and the second child is unique
and what you will say to me and I to you
is not said until we begin.
about Lex Runciman
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