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What do you feel in your body when you overplant a friend and it dies?3

Nicelle Davis | Poetry

Mother felt suffocated by the suffix -hood. Carbon Monoxide
took my friend, then my grandparents. Now I’m watching
COPD slowly strangle my father. It’s funny how we under-
value the unsayable. Air, what’s that? My birth sign triple
layered in Venus. The antique lace curtains of my childhood
are soot-stained at their hems—death is playful, touching
toes, fingerprints warning: you should be dead. Forgive me.
I am what I fear.  


3Plant Questions (title) by Annette Schiebout