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In honor of Juneteenth Day

Poetry, because it is so precise and chiseled, can tell stories and convey ideas that otherwise would take volumes. We are educated about the past in many ways. Poetry, especially this exquisite poetry, is one of those ways. I offer two poems by Rita Dove in honor of Juneteenth Day, The House Slave and Someone’s…

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Unforgivable

The kids in the orphanage in Nicaragua where we adopted three children didn’t cry. They’d already done their crying someplace else. They might have looked concerned but they didn’t cry when passed from one person to the next like a bowl of mashed potatoes being passed at Thanksgiving dinner. In their tiny heads they had…

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Stogie

Originally posted on Red's Wrap: Across the room My husband lights a cigar He asks first, a reflex Won’t the smoke bother me   My answer always the same No, go ahead, I say He waves away the smoke Apologetic, grateful for my indulgence   The smoke takes me back The announcer calling the play My father’s halo floating above his chair All is right, whistles blowing, tackles made   Later the smoke hangs Draped on the flowers in the vase Used, the fresh air spent and gone I yearn for the window to be open

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Writing Bleak

Originally posted on Red's Wrap: The problem with writing when you’re anxious or a little depressed is that everything ends up being about death – your own death, your spouse’s, your kids’, your dogs’, the death of the great American city, Death Be Not Proud, you get the idea. It’s depressing. I considered submitting…

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One Bird Two Wires

She sat across the conference table from me, an unintended meeting nearly forty years in the making. She was an old boyfriend’s other love interest, the woman he was with when he wasn’t with me which was often because we fought. He went on long binges of drinking and depression and when he scared me…

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Deep Space

The world doesn’t need me to weigh in on suicide. But I will, if only to sort out my own thinking. I’ve been depressed but not clinically. I’ve never wanted to end my life. I cannot fathom feeling that suicide is the best option. But I can’t fathom deep space either though I know it…

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Golden

Praise is so buttery. This from a person raised by a margarine Mom. It has taken me years to learn to lavish praise on others. For a long time, I did what I was taught. Which was to be spare and modest in my praise. Nothing a person would normally do was worthy of praise…

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Patent Leather Heels

There are fault lines, I am finding out, between my generation and all others. And where I assumed there was commonality, there is, but only the thinnest shreds. What is coming my way is the benevolent indulgence of younger women for my having attitudes and behavior that hearken from another era. Take the word cunt,…

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The C-Word

My bet is that Samantha Bee was searching in her head for the worst thing she could possibly call Ivanka Trump, rifling through her brain for the basest, crudest label, casting about for the word she would never use and had never used about any other person. That’s how much she wanted to show her…

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