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Hunan with Grandma This work is considered exceptional by our editorial staff.

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Here is the quixotic languor,
slow like honey, rolling
like sauce from lip to chin.

Here is the silence of forks
plucking heavy cold porcelain.

The light overhead will burn
like the bricks she once dreamed
her home would be forged from, like
the layers of velvet the movie stars
wear in the sepia toned daguerreotype
she finds in weather-toned chiffoniers - they give her dreams
to be fantastical.

I don't understand the cold
language of Asia, but this
is simple enough.





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