How does one say what if without reproach? —Claudia Rankine Remember how sweet the new firs smelled? Their soft spring pompoms pliant and cool
Walking with my husband and our daughters, my aunt, eight years younger than my mother, with her husband, and youngest daughter. I’m behind her,
for Vadim We’d known all along we’d need papers we lacked, fight identities we fled. See you on the other shore. You fostered your