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Hiding Places


by Charlotte Hamrick


From the beginning even the smallest dreams

were a half-turned terror that might never end.

Secret hiding places shelter

the fallout of war: the sound


of breath,

the throbbing cheek,

the flowered dress drenched with rain.


A frozen heart is without failures,

without fight, a silence

of not asking questions.

In my memory


you recognize me by touch,

inch by inch.

A rusty fan blows the stench

of sweat from my sheets.
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