Looking
me picture
Today, I will divide numbers for asylum my dead
rebuilding their lives.
arm will come down from my grandmother
train and sepia
seam, baste my voice.
Come to me and write me I will draw your flat
smiles back in Hungary.
That pretty you look, your gray hair and even today I
dance
the dead do not want your hand
stop writing the sacred words around me. Rossana Arellano
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