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WHY I SUCK MY THUMB by Lamb


When my heart is pure I see
miracles. But doubt is a good
drug, so I often suck my thumb
to counteract the dope and return
to childlike,
to wonder.

It works every time.
The act holds such power,
my reader is afraid to try.

Am I wrong?
Are you not
scared to let the little prole inside
to find his bed below your palate?

Go on, then—suck. See

how common you’ve become,
how ungrudging is our God.
See the stony thumbs of Moses:
one outstretched to cut the sea,
the other on his tongue, asuck.

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