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Bishop (of robes)

By Allison Seay Poetry

When my mother awakened me as a child, her face was the entire room. Later, it was the bishop’s torso that was the whole nave. Confronting me was a blue density, the body from the ribs up. In my memory I am unable to recover the face or the words. I know there was a…

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Bishop (of air)

By Allison Seay Poetry

What is at first staring at birds on a wire sooner or later if you think about it becomes staring into air. This was the kind of staring I was doing the day of the blessing, face to face with the bishop, which was also the day I understood longitude and latitude by way of…

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