The Language of a Marriage
Laura Powers In my lap, The Awakening rests like a pretension. Lately, I’ve found myself going in envy of fiction—not as a poet, but as a woman living a linear life, as she must with no parrot screaming foreshadow in its raucous patois: Allez vous-en! Get Out! Sapristi! Goddamn it! No one is in danger… More
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