Poem #87

Caught by a golden light
large hand scoops 
sacral to solar plexus,
finger tips curl upward
embracing the warm yellow

“I know who I am”

Pushing from the center, my own 
sweaty palms clench, tight refusal
to letting go, wrenching gut loose
a final emptiness, sour yellow 

“I don’t know who I am”


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