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The memories were always at their worst on clear mornings, especially when she had been cleaning. The smell of fresh linen filled the home and the dryer hummed steadily in the background. This used to be comforting to her, and in the back of her mind, she registered this. SheContinue Reading

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Favorite crayon color, skybloomed as a rose.Gem and the Hologram pink hair,Lazy Lapis Lazuli Lobster that I could walk on a leashand take for picnics of purple peppers and bouillon cubesoverlooking mountains of ice cream cones.Dreamt up under the ironing board orcrawled into the box spring orimagined under a blueberryContinue Reading

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When rumors of a Russian army marching toward Tashkent first reached its bazaars and tearooms, Grandfather shrugged and said, “Khokand, Bokhara, St. Petersburg–it makes little difference to whom we pay our taxes. How much we pay never changes.” When the river dried up and Ali and Salim had to stompContinue Reading

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She remembers snow forts packedwith ammunition, ice balls snivelingdown her back, frost stiffening her mittensbefore she could even launch a defensive. Icicles were nearly as tall as little Mary-down-the-street, who once fell in the sticker bushes,and, before she screamed herself to death,had to be rescued by someone else’s frantic mother.Continue Reading

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Test: Positive The test-tube test was taken this morning.Result: a rust-colored doughnut-shaped ring. That such a means should bring first proof of yousuggests the magic of this fragile life,the sleight-of-love that makes the wish come true.Yet pride insists we make a full disclosure:you were the best laid scheme of manContinue Reading

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They can’t form sentencesso they try every other way to ask for juice.Some adults mistake them for selfish demandsbut the kids share everything.What did the adults think it would look liketo live with somebody who doesn’t understandthe tonal distinction between a question and an exclamation? Terry Trowbridge’s poems have appearedContinue Reading

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(with fond memories of playing monsters with my brothers) The fight was going well,all destruction and other people’s blood,the kind of fight a monster could be proud ofuntil the duck flew in through the window. A raven would have been alright.That would have been in keeping with the mood.A crowContinue Reading

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When I was six and seven years old, The Beatles broke up, Manson was convicted, Apollo 13 nearly crashed into the moon, the American War Against Vietnam was grinding on with my eldest brother soon to be facing the draft, and I learned to hate school with great passion, moreContinue Reading

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There is nothing grandma wants morethan a little pace. She mutters in Italianfor Our Lady Madonna Mia to give her some then sighs over the tagliatelle she cut that morningfrom the flattened dough, yolk-tinged stripsfloured and arranged on the coarse white cloth she’s laid out on her tall bed soContinue Reading

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Everyone else has finishedand left the table,gotten on with their lives,but Connor has falleninto the black holethat is turkey cutlet night;he is stuck to his chairuntil he finishes,or dies,or has to go to bed,whichever comes first. He is alone with the enemy,and no plan of attack.His plate is an ominousContinue Reading