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Brianna Kathleen Reckeweg


15 September 2008
Vol. 8, No. 3

Always said we'd travel, but he's busy

as a dust storm and done already landed

where he's like to stay, the ground

floor a that new fancy store in Hayford

that smells all through like perfume, and sounds

like high heels clackin in circles.


12 September 2008
Vol. 8, No. 3

We spit the sucked off pulp off one side

of the porch, then spit the pumpkin seeds

into wooden bowls while Dad shook spices

in a Ball jar, something secret, something

different than the secret thing for popcorn

he called "Magic," seasons humming into

open drawers and cookie sheets. We wanted

only to carve but did this work for him.

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