Ipomoea in my shadow; blood and sweat makes the seed. it begins with I am. the madwoman. In her arms, I was born baby Jew; pawing the glass I would not remember you old war, poor and dead, agates—adieu, adieu, in youth. © 2021 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.
Written for the dVerse prompt 5/3/21: Your poem must be exactly 44 words and include the word seed.