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8 a U B a D e : D e L i v e r y During pregnancy, cells cross through the flat disk of placenta in both directions—mother gives the fetus her body and takes it back. They aren’t one. They’re separate as hands freeing the wood stick of the trapeze. But parting, something gets left like marks on a white doorframe. Thus i’ve never left my mother or the darker earth of her blood, never leaped from a rock into water believing the water could take all of me. i cannot break apart our white nidus, our atoms of string. i made the amber crossing, but stayed, too, in the river that i crossed, left her blood sparkling with my cells like scales. Like another woman. ...

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