Calvin Becker
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I dip
my hands
into your body,
a cool blue
aquifer
 
A reservoir
deep
beneath earthen
realms
and ancient caves,
a cenote
of whispers
and belonging
 
The crisp
drip, drop
of basin water
I bring my
folded hands
to mouth
and drink
immeasurable hues
 
Tributaries
of past,
future, and
present
sentience
a central
circular stone
amid the streams
 
 
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