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Letter Home (for my Mother)

Lonely one night, I dreamt you
became a cat and told me,
“All of our people can do this.”
I wasn’t surprised; time is fluid,
a wave flowing from the stars,
the old house spun up
in a funnel of wind, then set down
in a city of brilliant emeralds.

Letter Home (for my Mother)

Lonely one night, I dreamt you
became a cat and told me,
“All of our people can do this.”
I wasn’t surprised; time is fluid,
a wave flowing from the stars,
the old house spun up
in a funnel of wind, then set down
in a city of brilliant emeralds.

Kaija Campos, 52

Seattle

 
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POET OF THE WEEK

Victoria Rolph

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