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Locket

By Robert Cording Poetry

You carry our son in a locket
you hang around your neck

each morning, a way, I guess,
of carrying what isn’t and what is

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Pops

By Joanna Solfrian Poetry

I remember you in your final atonement, how calm you were. 
Though you couldn’t tell me, you understood the names hidden in the dusk. 

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And It Came to Pass in Those Days

By Katie Hartsock Poetry

I hear these words in your voice no matter who says them, in the well-water smell of the basement, by the artificial tree you and she would one day put a sheet over, so you never had to take it down or put it up again.

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Proof

By Bruce Bond Poetry

Why pray for the dead if not for this,
for God’s speed on their journey, home,
beneath the burden of the proof they bear.

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The Cult of the Beheaded

By Elizabeth Harper Essay

The dead who walk the streets might be a relic of the past, something your Sicilian grandma might tell you about, but the Sanctuary of the Souls of the Beheaded is very much alive.

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