1949

That was when there were no shirts on the back
Only glistening oils on body,  anger bawling out
Breath surmounting cloth, sweet sick baby smell.
Wonder where it had been all along, a watery thing
That had  sprung as an idea in somebody's mind.

Its  anxious people  laughed at the undue hurry
To reach pink nipples, forget dark that had passed 
The green fluid , the beginning  of white memory
As colors began, grays flowed softly from the sky
A summer of light  pouring in shafts of sunlight .
The idea  might not have sprung in someone's mind.
The 1949 summer might have been like any summer.
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