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by Amanda Jernigan

I feel that I could weather death
if only I could tell you of it after.

It’s amazing what we’ve made all right
around this kitchen table. But how

could I relate, beyond the stopping
of the blood, the breath, the stopping

of relation? That’s no country. Perhaps,
she said, taking up her glass—lifting

her glass of sea-dark wine—that’s why
I spend such time telling you of it now.



Published in Arc 62: Summer 2009
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