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  • Nonfiction > Memoir
    When I was eight, my dad got a new job, which meant that my family would endure yet another move, adding Kansas to the list of states we'd lived in over the past several years. Driving in our mint-green minivan to our new home, I leaned my forehead against the window and imagined myself milking ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
    The cement was cold and I pictured an ­endless stretch of flattened gravestones beneath my feet, the places where you once stepped. The moths tap danced about the streetlamp As I asked myself where you would be When the bulb died, When the moths fluttered to the ground like ghostly rose petal...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
    I come from a place where the couches have never matched, Where the wallpaper is a pattern of finger prints smudged on white, And it smells like the perfumes of childhood. I am from the womb of a family room Where anyone who enters is kin, And glasses must clink like victory bells In order f...

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