anything interesting about her
was external to her
having never birthed or midwifed anything original,
she was a mosaic of willingly received or easily imposed externalities,
perfectly squared tessarae
arranged into place, adhered in an unremarkable, familiar composition, so very common of her sisterhood
her mortar was mixed not with the warmth of cord blood, not with the sweat of work, not with sacred tears, or river water
but with an expensive bottled vintage that she bought

she was a surface dweller, invisible to the ancient light or darkness,

both the heights and depths remained beyond her

she was not known as a daughter of Norea, Lilith, Demeter, or Eve

and would not eat of the apple — nor the pomegranate, in this incarnation

but reside and hide within the curated and policed gardens of her kind

she would contentedly remain external to and ignorant of her Self for all her life

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