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I just want to go back

into the bush and eat

more blueberries

growing wild as she

drops me off at the lumber

mill I'm fifteen and a janitor

cleaning out the urinals

at the debarker I find

pubic hair the lumberjacks

have left long barbs curled

to "put me in my place"

debarker: where they

keep the machine that

cuts the bark away from

the trees years ago my

blood cousin fell in

and emerged skinless

that was before this brain

sprouted from my spine

in an allegory trees

would be distributed

evenly throughout the

narrative in a gesture

of looking back over

my shoulder as mom

pulls away from the

yard I have on a hard

hat that is orange and too

big over my weird bleached

hair I have only the same

rag for the toilets as the

dishes when I look up the

sky is obscured by smoke

I can never tell what

they're burning

Debarker

Liz Howard

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Poem of the Week

Dzvinia Orlowsky

Wine of Angels

translated from the Ukrainian written by
Natalka Bilotserkivets