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LARISSA SZPORLUK

Mrs. Wright’s Dream The white bowl howls at whiteness. Howls at pubescence, at the twinkling of it, as far as the eye can see. Being open to openness is not a good build for a home. Not if your daughter is a rabbit, and your son, a cracked gnome. And you, in truth, are a garden addicted to winter, to blows.

POETRY | 79


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