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Updated: Nov 5, 2019

by Audrey Molnar '19

From my father-

his level headed cognition taught me

tough reason.

I wish my hands were as strong.

A brother’s matchbox cars,

rusted ones I was afraid

to touch,

I had just showered.

A great grandmother never met,

assume she’d like me-

dubious claims animate loss.

A sisters insults

towards a set of t-shirts and jeans.

Wardrobe is not a presentation.

She knows.

The pink basement walls

cinderblock and paint.

A broadway stage

made of sheets and storage shelves.

An art studio of baskets and canvas.

Dirt and plywood.

Flies and a broken family above.

A level head fully inherited, palms

burdened by rust.

I come from my father.


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