by Lucille Clifton (1936-2010)
i am the sieve she strains from
little by little
everyday.
i am the rind
she is discarding.
i am the riddle
she is trying to answer.
something is moving
in the water.
she is the hook.
i am the line.
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Questions to think about: The speaker of the poem sees herself through her daughters' eyes, and becomes a different object to each daughter. Can you think of a thing, an object, that describes your relationship to another person?
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