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It is so unconscious, this water, So still and unknowable; Amniotic, cobbled with lillypads, Thick with pond weed and meadowsweet rushes. It is so unthinking too;

Tiny thing, Pink-faced and cradle-capped, Swaddled in a blanket that reeks of smoke. Your bright smile ricochets around the white walls, Over the heads of tired-looking health visitors,