Our hands and blue eyes are copies.
Were twin water bodies their sacs?
Our membranes are tethered in time.
Did these aids store love in their hearts?
Like the delight spuming in mine
when baby-you said
‘cuddle you’.
A noble balance becomes you
It surpassed myths of victory.
The daughter of Pallas loses
My daughter filled the Styx with joy.
Your life flows by each canal lock.
Victoria was the right name.
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I'm delighted to say that this poem is featured in Dreich magazine: https://hybriddreich.co.uk/
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