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Poetry
Poetry
Her, Rising
Yes, there are the memories / like little phylacteries strapped to our minds, / and there are the ways we know our dead / have worked inside us
February 2000Poetry
Talking To Trees
A doctor, so angry at the inconvenience of being called in to suture a suicidal prisoner’s wrists, said, “I’ll make sure he doesn’t do that again,” and sewed him up without anesthetic. That doctor was employed by the state to cut medical costs. He still is.
February 2000
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