you held my head and placed it on your chest
life roared through the bone, i slept assured
its raining, i do not want to discern
whether it is my mother's lashes or the wood smeared ashes
amongst raw rice and marigold mantles, the same bone rests in my palm
i place it to my forehead
the priest chants, i wait
i will hear it, the humming cavern of bone and sleep reassured
the cavern is uproariously silent
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