#100repchallenge, poetry
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#081: to the ancestors

and their dusky pink bathtubs

that were all the rage

filled to the lip with bubbles

big enough to hold their rage

their joy, their day

if given lip, myth of mouths

being scrubbed

lavender hiccups

joined by Luna’s hum

harmonize to trill a

rub-a-dub-dub

and swimming back and forth

to the beat of this coarse yet ethereal drum

is a little yellow duck

their beady black eyes

a witness to both ends of life

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