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Sam’s House

By Pádraig Ó Tuama Essay

I hear, though, how torn he is: pulled toward something that seems to shame him. I think he half hates himself, and—like many men—he turns self-hatred into the hatred of others, especially women.

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What He Knew

By Margaret Gibson Poetry

What He Knew _____ for David :: Before Alzheimer’s and during it when he spoke in stray words or in sounds he sometimes moved his hands like birds _____ in flight… so that, watching his hands punctuate the air I’d ask myself Am I watching birds disappear? Or a flower, opening?   :: “If we…

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Cutting Hair

By Suzanne Underwood Rhodes Poetry

I wrap you in a cape and snug it with a clip.
How careful I must be, rounding
your good ear with scissors, the ear
my tongue loves to kiss, apricot-sweet,
and loves, too, the bad ear and its ghosts.

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